“Ye must, one of these evenings, and ere the inventory is made, drive two of the kine to my byre. We can entrust the sow to our cousin, and stow away all we can at our acquaintances’.—I will let you know with whom.—Ye will declare in the inventory that the corn has all been sold to Yankel: give him a couple of bushels, and he will bear witness to anything. The miller will take one colt, and it may feed in his paddock. Of the vessels and implements, some may be hidden among the potatoes, some in the rye-fields.... ’Tis friendly advice I am giving you!... They all do the same—all that are not fools.... You have been working to death: ’tis just ye should get a larger share.... To me you need only give a few crumbs. And fear nothing: I will help you through the whole business; aye, and make it my affair, too, that ye shall get all the land for your own!... Only hearken to me: none can give better advice than I.—Why, even the Squire takes mine gladly.—Well, what say you?” She answered in slow tones, looking at the man steadfastly and with scorn: “Thus much: even as I will give up naught that’s mine, so too am I not covetous of aught else!” He staggered as if from a stunning blow—then glared at her in fury and hissed: “Besides, I would not breathe a word to anyone of how ye despoiled the old man!” “Breathe what ye choose to whom ye choose!—But I will tell Antek of your advice, and he shall speak to you on the matter!” He scarcely could swallow down an imprecation. But he only spat on the ground, and walked off hurriedly, calling to his wife through the open window: “Magda, have an eye to all things, lest there be yet more thefts here!” But as he passed, with what disdain Hanka eyed him! Maddened by her scorn, he made off, but meeting the Voyt’s wife, who just entered the enclosure, stopped to confer with her for some time, angrily and with clenched fists. She came bringing an official document with her. “’Tis for you, Hanka: the policeman has brought it in from the bureau.” “About Antek, perchance!” she thought in great trepidation, taking the paper in her apron-covered hand. “I think it concerns Gregory. My goodman is out—gone to the District office—and the policeman only said there was something about Gregory being dead, or....” “Jesu Maria!” Yuzka shrieked, and Magda started to her feet in horror. Helplessly, seized with overwhelming fear, they turned the ominous paper about. “You perhaps, Yagna, could understand it,” Hanka said beseechingly. They stood round her, choking with suspense and dread; but Yagna, after a long try at spelling it out, gave up the attempt. “I cannot read it: ’tis not written in our language.” “Nor penned in her presence either!” the Voyt’s wife sneered. “Other things there are, however, in which she is more learned!” “Go ye your ways,” Dominikova snarled, “and let quiet folks be.” But the Voyt’s wife would not miss the opportunity to strike a blow at her.