On that, he told her how he loathed his life and the country and all things, and was determined to go away and wander forth into the world. “Why, if you will have a change, then marry!” she said, laughing. “Aye, if she of whom I think would but have me!” he cried, staring eagerly into her eyes; but she, confused and unpleasantly impressed, looked aside. “Ask her! Anyone would be glad to marry you: more than one already expects your messengers.” “And what if she should refuse me?—The shame—the pain of it!” “In that case, you’d send your men with vodka to someone else.” “I am not that sort. I would only have one, and cannot turn to another.” “Oh, a young man has much the same liking for every girl, and would fain come to close quarters with them all.” This he did not deny; but presently, changing his mode of attack: “Yagna, you know that the boys only wait for your mourning-time to end; men will at once be sent to you with vodka.” “Let them drink it themselves! I’ll marry no one of them!” she declared, with so much energy as to made him think deeply. She spoke her mind: she cared for none of them; only for Yanek—her Yanek! The thought of him made her sigh, and she gave herself up to it with delight, while Matthew, baffled, went back to his sister. And Yagna looked into vacancy with wandering eyes of unrest, saying to herself: “What—what is he doing at this moment?” On a sudden, someone had seized and was hugging her close in his arms. She struggled violently. “Will you not console me for my loss?” the Voyt whispered passionately. Raging, she tore herself from his clutch. “Touch me but once more, I’ll tear your eyes out and call the whole village here to you!” “Hush, Yagna, hush! See, I bring you a present!” and he pressed into her hand a necklace of coral. “Put it...!” Her exasperation may be some excuse for what she said. “All your gifts are mere rubbish to me!” “But, Yagna, what—what means this?” he stammered, stupefied. “It means this much: ye are a hog! And are never to speak to me any more!” She broke away from him in a towering passion, and rushed home. Her mother was peeling potatoes; Andrew was milking the cows, out of doors. She set herself busily to perform her evening duties, though still trembling all over with anger and unable to calm herself; and as soon as the twilight had gathered, she went out to roam again, saying to her mother: “I am going to look in at the organist’s.” Soon she beheld the windows of Yanek’s room, shining bright in the darkness; there Michael was writing under the suspended lamp, while the organist and his dame sat outside the house, taking the cool of the evening. They greeted her with the news: “Yanek is to be here to-morrow afternoon!”