“Beyond all doubt, then, ye are blessed of the Lord,” Yagna said, looking intently at them both, with a sigh of something like compunction. They both seemed changed beyond recognition; Simon especially. He had always passed for an incapable fellow, who bore the blame of all that went wrong; and anyone that cared to wipe his feet on him could do so.—And now! Able in speech, wise in his acts, and dignified in his bearing, he was really not the same man!... After a long silence: “Which are your fields?” she inquired. Nastka pointed them out to her, telling her what they were going to sow, and where. “But whence is the seed to come?” “Simon says we shall get it; and so we shall. Because he speaks no idle words.” “He’s my own brother; but what ye say seems told of someone else!” “So good, so clever, so hard-working!... There’s none like him, none!” Nastka declared most emphatically. “Surely,” Yagna mournfully assented.—“And whose are those fields with the mounds marking their boundaries?” “Antek Boryna’s. Not worked at present, though, for they await the division of the farm.” “There will be a goodly bit of land for them, and a most comfortable holding.” “Oh, may our Lord, for their kindness to us, render them back tenfold! Antek stood surety with the Squire for our payment of the instalments, and has helped us in many another way.” “Antek!... Surety for payment!” She was astounded. “And Hanka is not less kind: she has given me a young sow. ’Tis only a sucking-pig now, but of good stock, and will grow up to be of great use to us.” “Indeed, you tell me of a marvellous thing. Hanka give you a sucking-pig? ’Tis simply incredible.” They returned to the hut, where Yagna, having taken a ten-rouble note out of her kerchief, handed it to Nastka. “Here’s a trifle.... I could not bring it before ... the Jew had not yet paid me for my geese.” They thanked her very warmly, and Yagna said, on leaving: “Wait a little; Mother will relent, and let you have some of the property.” “I do not want it! Let her take the injury she has done me down to her grave with her!” Simon burst out, so suddenly and with such vehemence that she left without one word more, and went home, moody, depressed, and not a little out of sorts. “What am I? A dry stick that no one cares for,” she sighed forlornly, as she went. About half-way home, she met Matthew. He was going to his sister, but went back with her and listened attentively to what she said of Simon. “Not all men are so well off,” he remarked gloomily. They talked on, but he did not feel at his ease. He was longing to say something to her, but embarrassed how to say it; Yagna was meanwhile looking down at Lipka, bathed in the sundown glow. Then he said: “In this narrow little world, I feel stifled to death!” He was almost speaking to himself. She turned to him with a questioning look. “What ails you? Your face is as wry as if you had been drinking vinegar!”