She could catch every one of his words, every creak of the boarded floor, the ceaseless tick of the clock, and even the organist’s heavy breathing. Yanek was speaking of things so much beyond her that she could not make out one word. But, fixing her eyes on him as on the picture of some saint, she drank in every sound of his voice, sweeter to her than the sweetest honey. As he walked, he at times was unseen, towards the end of the room: then again he reappeared, coming into the lamplit circle. Several times he stopped by the window, and she shrank back, fearing to be seen; but he always looked only up into the star-besprinkled sky, saying a few pleasant words that brought a laugh to the others’ lips and bright looks into their eyes. At last he sat down by his mother’s side, and his little sisters climbed upon his knees, clinging to his neck, while he hugged them fondly and caressed them, and played with them till the cabin echoed to their innocent laughter. The clock struck. His mother rose, saying: “You are for ever chattering, but ’tis bedtime; and you have to start by daybreak to-morrow.” “True, Mother dear.—Alas! how short this day has seemed to me!” he complained. Yagna’s heart was wrung so sorely that the tears welled up to her eyes. “But,” he added, “our vacation is nigh; and the Rector has promised to let me go home sooner, if his Reverence will but write to ask him.” “I shall beg him to do so; fear naught, he will write,” said his mother, who was making a bed for him just opposite the window. Their farewells were long and loving; his mother held him to her breast, as she kissed him. “To bed now, my dearest, and sleep sound.” And now at last he was alone! Yagna saw how they walked on tiptoe in the other rooms, and spoke in whispers, not to disturb him. They closed the windows, and soon the whole house was noiseless, that Yanek might sleep more soundly. Yagna too would have gone home, but for something that kept her rooted to the spot; and she stood spellbound, staring into that last open lighted window. Yanek read for some time out of a great book; then, kneeling down by the window, he crossed himself, clasped his hands in prayer, raised his eyes to Heaven, and began in an impressive whisper. It was dead of night. Silence reigned; the stars were twinkling in the heights of heaven. A warm fragrant breath came from the fields, and at intervals there sounded the rustling of a bough, the faint warbling of a bird. Yagna was now growing more and more beside herself. Her heart throbbed madly, her eyes glowed with fire, her full lips were burning hot. Instinctively, she stretched her arms out to him; though at the same time she was shrinking back within herself, she felt a strange resistless agitation take hold of her, and had to lean against the fence that creaked again to her trembling. Yanek looked out of the window and around, then went on with his prayer.