“Yagna, I bore you no grudge whatsoever. But a man whose soul is tortured forgets both himself and the whole world.” They were speechless awhile, standing shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, the moon shining straight into their faces. Both breathed heavily; both were torn with memories that seared them, and their eyes brimmed with unshed tears of agony. “Not so did ye receive me, once upon a time,” he said gloomily. All at once she fell a-weeping with abundant tears, like a little child. “And how shall I receive you, pray? Have you blasted my life and wronged me too little as yet, now that all men look upon me as on a dog?” “I blasted your life?—Was’t through me?” He was hot with anger. “Yea, through you! On your account did that harridan—that offal—drive me from your door! And on your account have I become the laughing-stock of all Lipka!” “Oh, and do ye no longer meet the Voyt? and the others besides? Ha?” he broke out grimly. “All that—all!—came about because of you!” she hissed, pierced by his words to her inmost heart. “Wherefore did you force your will on me as on a dog? Had you no wife of your own? I was senseless; you had so befooled me that I saw no one in the world but you. And why did you leave me then, a prey to all men?” But he, in a frenzy of bitterness, muttered between his set teeth: “Did I constrain you, forsooth, to become my stepmother? And did I force you to be afterwards the prize of any that cared?” “Ah! why did you not lift a finger to prevent me? Had you loved me, you would never have left me to myself, but saved me ... as others would have done!” Her regret was so clear, so sincere and unfathomably deep, that he found no word to defend himself. All his former acrimony vanished from his soul, and he again felt love stirring there. “Hush, my Yagna, hush, my little one!” he whispered tenderly. “And this wrong besides have I suffered, that you—you, of all men!—should rise up against me with the others!” she sobbed, her head against the barn. He led her away to the field-path, gathered her to his bosom, fondled her, caressed her silky locks, and wiped her wet cheeks, and kissed her trembling lips, and her eyes, welling with briny tears—those dear sorrowful eyes of hers! He showered every endearment on her, and presently her weeping grew fainter; she leaned her drooping head upon his breast, and put her arm round his neck with childlike trust. But Antek’s blood was by now all on fire; his kisses grew fierce and stormy, his embraces tightened to a crushing hug. She at first did not realize what was coming on, nor what was passing in herself. It was only when she felt completely helpless, and knew again the power of his hot kisses, that she attempted to break loose, begging him in terror, almost with tears: “Let me go! Antek, for God’s sake, let me go!—I shall cry out!” But escape was impossible: his wild impetuosity crushed all resistance down, and prevailed utterly.