From a lamp suspended in front of the high altar, a ripple as of bluish smoke ascended tremulously through the sunlight that poured down from the windows high above. Without, sparrows chirruped, and now and then ventured into the aisles with straws in their beaks; from time to time a swallow came twittering in by the great doorway, swept round, skirting the cold silent walls, and speedily flew back to the bright world outside. Agata said a few short prayers and hurried out, eager to get to the Klembas’. Just in front of the church, Yagustynka met her. “What, you here, Agata!” she exclaimed in astonishment. “Yes, here I am, and still alive, good dame”; and she bent to kiss her hand. “Why, they said ye had turned up your toes somewhere far away. But I see that ‘our Lord’s bread,’ though easily earned, has not done you much good. There’s a churchyard look about you,” the old hag said, eyeing her mockingly. “Ye say true, good dame; I have scarce been able to drag my old bones hither.” “Off to the Klembas’, eh?” “Surely. Are they not my kith and kin?” “Your wallet is pretty well filled: they will receive you kindly. Also ye have there, I dare say, a few coins knotted in a clout. Aye, aye! they will certainly admit your kinship.” “Are they all well?” Agata interrupted, pained at her jeers. “They are. Except Thomas, who is in poor health, but getting better in prison.” “Thomas! In prison?—Pray make no such jokes; they do not amuse me.” “What I said I repeat. But let me add that he is in good company; the whole village is there too along with him. When the law comes in, with its trap-doors and gratings, it takes no account if a man has land or not.” Agata stood bewildered. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph!” she moaned. “Now hurry along to Klemba’s wife: you will soon be fed up with news.... Aha! the men are taking a holiday, with a vengeance!” she said, and laughed maliciously. Agata crept away: she could not believe the news. On her way, she saw several women whom she knew, and who greeted her kindly; but she made as though she had not heard them, and of set purpose went as slowly as she could, putting off the dread confirmation of what the old woman had told her. She lingered long, gazing here and there, unwilling to know the worst. At last, however, she made bold to enter Klemba’s hut, which was at hand; but she trembled all over, and looked with frightened eyes at the orchard and the cottage in the background. Close to the windows, the cows were drinking noisily out of a large tub; and on the other end of the long open passage through the hut, she could see a sow with her little ones wallowing in the mud, and fowls looking eagerly for food on the dunghill. The tub was empty now. Taking it up (for she somehow felt more courage, coming in thus with something in her hand), she entered the large dusky room, and “praised God.” “Who is that?” answered a plaintive voice from the inner chamber.