It was only in the afternoon that he came back there again. She lay on her bed, completely conscious. Her open locker stood beside her on a bench, and her hands, now very cold, had taken out of it all the effects she had provided for the present occasion: a clean sheet to be placed under her body; fresh bed-linen; holy water and a sprinkler still in good condition; a long piece cut off from a death-taper; an image of Our Lady of Chenstohova, to be put in her hands after death; a new chemise, a beautifully striped skirt, a cap deeply frilled about the forehead, a kerchief to bind over it, and a pair of shoes that had never yet been worn. This complete funeral outfit, got together by begging during the course of her life, she had now spread around her, delighted with every article and praising its quality to those about her; she even peeped into a looking-glass, and whispered with great pleasure: “How grand it will be! I look quite like a notable goodwife.” She directed them to dress her in all that splendid clothing at early dawn on the morrow. No one opposed or thwarted her: everyone went about to make her last hours as happy as could be. Yanek sat beside her bed till dusk, reading prayers aloud, which she said after him, smiling faintly now and then. When they sat down to supper, she asked for scrambled eggs; but she only took one or two mouthfuls, pushed the dish away, and then lay still all the evening, only calling old Klemba to her before she went to sleep. “All is well,” she said anxiously; “I shall not trouble you long ... not long!” Next morning, clad as she had desired, she was laid on Dame Klemba’s bed, but with her own bedding. She saw that everything was properly arranged, and with her own trembling hands smoothed down her thin feather-bed, poured out the holy water and placed the sprinkler in the basin; and then, all being ready, she asked for the priest. He came, bringing our Lord, and, having prepared her for her last journey, desired Yanek to stay by her side till the end. This he did, and sat saying his hours there. The Klembas too remained within doors, and Yagna soon came round and ensconced herself quietly in a corner. All were very still, and moved about like shadows, with eyes anxiously fixed upon Agata, who lay, rosary in hand, and still quite conscious, bidding farewell to all who came in. To some children that peeped in at the door and window, she distributed a few kopeks. “That’s for you,” she whispered cheerfully; “but say a prayer for Agata.”