With a sudden movement, they all made way, bowing to the very ground: it was the parish priest, come upon them unexpectedly. “Ambrose has just informed me of this calamity. Where is Stahova?” They drew aside for him to see her; but she, blinded by her tears, took no notice. “Veronka,” Hanka said to her in a whisper, “here is his Reverence himself, come to see you!” She started at the words, and, seeing the priest, fell at his feet in a tempest of tears. “Peace, be still; do not weep.—What is to be done? It is—aye, it _is_—God’s will!” he said twice, brushing a tear away, and deeply moved. “We must go hence, and beg our bread through the world!” “No, no; do not give way so. There are kindly folk, and they will not suffer you to perish. Moreover, the Lord will help you in His own way. Has any one of you been hurt? No?” “In that, God has been merciful.” “Truly, a marvellous escape!” “They might well have all been crushed to death, like Ploshka’s geese,” someone said. “Yes,” another remarked, “all without exception.” “Any cattle or live stock lost, eh?” “God ordered things so that all was then in the enclosure and nothing lost.” The priest, taking a pinch of snuff, looked round at the heap of rubbish, all that remained of their cabin; and his eyes again brimmed with tears. “Really, it is a very great mercy. Ye might have been all crushed flat.” “But had that been, I should not be looking on these ruins now, nor live to see our home destroyed. O my Jesus, my Jesus! Here am I with my little ones, homeless! What shall I do, and whither shall I go?” she cried once more, and tore her hair in despair. The priest shifted uneasily, and spread his hands out with a gesture of indecision. Someone slipped a plank under his feet, saying: “Lest your feet be wetted!” And, indeed, the mud was ankle-deep. He moved on to the plank, and took another pinch of snuff, considering what he should say to comfort her. Hanka was busily engaged with her sister and father, while the other women pressed round the priest, and feasted their eyes on him. More women and children were arriving every instant, and their clogs splashed through the mud, and the gathering crowd made comments in hushed voices, amongst which the sobs, now less violent, of Veronka and her children were heard. On all the faces around, so far as they were visible, with their aprons pulled down over their brows, there were seen much sorrow and deep concern, dark as the cloudy sky overhead: hot tears rolled down many a cheek. But, in their concern and sorrow, they were calm, and resigned to this visitation of God on their poor neighbour. “What then! should everyone take the affairs of others too much to heart, what room would be left for his own?” After a pause, the priest turned to Veronka, and said: “Above all things, ye ought to thank the Lord God that your lives have been spared.” “Surely, and if I have to sell my pig for it, I will get the wherewithal for a Mass.”