"Yes, this also has its charm, particularly on a night like this." "Are not nights the same in England?" "No, not as quiet. There is hardly a corner there to which the whistling of locomotives or the factory noises do not reach. I like your villages for their quiet and their distance from the cities." "So, then, this is not the first time that you have seen a Polish village?" "No. I have passed the last month with Zosia Otocka." "I wish that our Jastrzeb would find favor in your eyes. It is too bad that you chanced here upon a funeral. That is always sad. I saw that you were even affected." "It reminded me of something," answered Miss Anney. Whereupon, evidently desiring to change the subject of the conversation, she again began to peer into the depths of the garden. "How everything blooms and smells agreeably here!" "Those are jasmines and elders. Did you observe on the forest road, riding to Jastrzeb, that the edges of the woods are planted with elders? That is my work." "I only observed it at the bridge, where an old building stands. What kind of building is that?" "That is an ancient mill. At one time there was a great deal of water in the stream beside it, but later my uncle, Zarnowski, drained it off to the fish-ponds in Rzeslewo and the mill stood still. Now it is a ramshackle building in which for over ten years we have stored hay instead of keeping it in hayricks. Folks say that the place is haunted, but I myself circulated, in its time, that myth." "Why?" "First, so that they should not steal the hay, and again because it was of much concern to me that no one should pry in there." "What an invention!" "I told them that near the bridge during night-time the horses get frightened and that something in the mill laughs; which is true, because owls laugh there." "Perhaps it would have been better to have told them that something in there weeps." "Why?" "For greater effect." "I do not know. Laughter in the night in the solitude creates a greater impression. People fear it more." "And nobody peeps in there?" "Not a soul. Now, if they only would not steal the hay, it would be all the same to me, but at that time I was anxious to screen myself from the eyes of men--" Here Ladislaus bit his tongue, observing in the moonlight that Miss Anney's eyebrows frowned slightly. He understood that in repeating twice that it was important to him that no one should pry into the mill, he committed a breach of etiquette and, what was worse, had presented himself to the young English lady as some provincial boaster, who gives the impression that often he has been forced to seek various hiding-places. So desiring to erase the bad impression, he added quickly: "When a student, I wrote verses and for that reason sought solitude. But now all that has passed away."