“Now,” Hanka’s command rang out, “put the horses to, this instant!”—And, having made up for her husband such a parcel as she scarce could lift, she dressed for the journey. Yagustynka came in quite out of breath, and just as the horses were pawing the ground outside the cabin. “We were about to start without you!” “Alas! and the Hallow-fare is over?” She sniffed ruefully and drew a long breath. “There is yet a morsel or two: sit down and take what’s left.” The poor hungry creature needed no pressing. Ravenous as a wolf, she set to, and swept the platter clean. “When the Lord Jesus created the pig, He knew well what He was doing!” she exclaimed, after a few mouthfuls; adding, as a gentle hint in the form of a joke: “Strange, though, that men let it wallow in the mud during life, and are afterwards so willing to wash it in vodka!” “Well, here is some: drink our healths and be quick: there is no time!” In about the space of a Pater, they were off. From the britzka, Hanka reminded Yuzka not to forget her father. She immediately went to him with a plateful of various meats, and tried to speak with him. Though he did not reply, he swallowed all she put in his mouth, staring vacantly as ever. Possibly he might have taken some more; but Yuzka soon tired of feeding him, and ran out to the gate to look at the many women, either driving (there were upwards of a score of wagons) or else trudging to town with great packs on their shoulders. Soon, however, the clatter ceased, and melancholy reigned throughout the village. Yes, melancholy! notwithstanding the bright sun on high, and that pond as of glass mingled with fire, and the trees all bathed in aromatic perfumes and brilliantly fresh green tints, and the quiet loveliness of spring now spreading over the world—the blue haze on the vast rolling plain, the larks that sang, the far-off villages tremulous under the blaze of day, and resounding with loud pistol-shots and merry-making! Lipka, Lipka alone, was sad, abandoned, forsaken; and the hours there crept drearily and wearily by. Noon was at hand, when Roch went over to Boryna’s, to see after the sick man, and have a talk with the children, and sit in the sun. He read for a while, often lifting his eyes to the road, and presently saw the smith’s wife come in with her little ones. She sat down outside the hut, after having looked in at her father’s. “Is your goodman at home?” Roch asked her after a pause. “Oh, no! Gone to town with the Voyt.” “All Lipka is there to-day.” “Aye, and the poor sufferers will have some morsels of the Hallow-fare to comfort them.” Yagna was just going out. “What!” he exclaimed. “Have ye not gone to town with your mother?” “And what business have I there?” she returned, stepping out of the enclosure, and looking wistfully along the road. Magda sighed. “She has a new skirt on to-day!”