“They prefer his bull to mine,” he shouted; “let them get flour out of him now!” His wife, who was a poorly-looking querulous thing with a bandaged face, would shrug her shoulders; and, when possible, she made loans by stealth to many a one. Klemba’s wife came to ask for half a quart of millet groats. “Cash down! I’ll not sell her one grit on credit!” This was very embarrassing to her; she had brought no money. “Your Thomas is hand in glove with the priest: let him lend the groats ye want!” At this, Klembova took offence, and answered defiantly: “Aye, he holds with the priest, and still will hold; but never shall he set foot in here again!” “‘Slight the plight, brief the grief!’ Go elsewhere for your meal!” She withdrew, but in sore perplexity, for there was not a kopek in the house. However, meeting the smith’s wife, who sat by the closed forge, as she set to complain to her about the miller’s behaviour, the latter returned, with a smile on her face: “His power, let me tell you, will not last long.” “Alas! who can resist so rich a man?” “When there’s a windmill close by, we shall be able.” Wide-eyed with bewilderment, Klembova stared at her. “My goodman,” she explained, “is building a windmill. He has just set out with Matthew to the forest for timber; it will be put up in Podlesie, close to the crucifix there.” “Well!—Michael build a windmill! I never dreamed of such a thing.... Well, well!—But ’twill serve that extortioner right: he has waxed too fat.” Her feelings much relieved, she was hastening home in good spirits, when, seeing Hanka outside her cabin at the washing-tub, she went to tell her that same unexpected bit of news. Antek, working at a cart just by, overheard her, and said: “Magda has told you the truth. The smith has purchased a score of acres in Podlesie, close to the crucifix.... The miller will go mad with rage! But he has treated us all so that none will pity him.” “Any tidings of Roch?” “None whatever,” he replied, turning away quickly. “That, methinks, is strange. ’Tis the third day we have no news of him.” “Ah, how often has he disappeared so, and yet come back again to us!” “Is any one of you,” Hanka queried, “going to Chenstohova?” “Yes: Eva and Matty.—A good few make the pilgrimage this year.” “I too am going; the linen I am washing now is for the journey.” “There will be many from the other villages too, I expect.” “And a good season they have chosen—just when the work is hardest!” Antek grumbled; but he would not forbid Hanka, knowing well to what intention she was making this pilgrimage. Yagustynka joined them. “Know ye?” she cried; “John came home from the army about an hour ago!” “Teresa’s goodman! And she was saying he would not be back till autumn!” “I have just seen him; very well clad ... and dying to be once more in his home!” “A good fellow, but a very headstrong one.... Is Teresa at home?” “No, at the priest’s, pulling up flax-plants. She has no idea of what’s coming.”