The cabin became a drowsy tedious place. Yagna had gone over to her side of the hut, and Roch was sitting outside with Bylitsa, who felt very sleepy. “Get home,” Roch said to him; “there, Mr. Yacek is waiting to talk with you.” “Mr. Yacek ... waiting?” he stammered, astounded and thoroughly waked up.—“To talk with me? Well, well!” And away he hurried. Roch stayed where he was, murmuring prayers, and looking out into the impenetrable depths of the nocturnal sky, vibrant with twinkling stars, wherein the moon was rising—a sharp bright semicircle that cut deep into the darkness. In the cabins, the lights had gone out one by one, like sleepy eyes that close fast: stillness reigned, disturbed only by the quiet rustling of leaves, mingling with the bubbling of the distant stream. At the miller’s alone did the windows all shine brilliantly, and the folk enjoyed themselves late into the night. At Boryna’s all was still; everyone had gone to rest and the lights were out, except for the dying embers about the pots on the hearth, where the crickets chirped unseen; but Roch stayed up, waiting outside for Hanka. It was near midnight, when hoofs were heard beating upon the bridge by the mill, and the britzka came rolling in. Hanka was extremely depressed and taciturn; and it was only when, supper over, Pete had gone to the stable, that Roch made bold to ask if she had seen her husband. “All the afternoon. He is in good health and spirits, and asked me to send you a greeting.... I saw the other lads also.—They are to be set free, but none will tell when. Also I saw the lawyer who is to defend Antek....” She was, however, keeping back something that lay like a stone at her heart, and went on talking of other and indifferent matters: till suddenly she broke down, bursting into tears, and covering her face, while the drops came pouring through her fingers. “I shall come to-morrow morning,” he said. “Ye need rest. You have been much shaken, and it might do you harm.” “Oh!” she burst out; “if I could but die and have done with this agony!” He bent his head and withdrew, saying nothing. Hanka went at once to lie down by her children; but, tired though she was, she could not sleep. Ah! Antek had treated her as though she had been some importunate dog. He had eaten the Hallow-fare with a good appetite, taken a few roubles without asking whence she had got them, and not so much as said he was sorry the journey had tired her!