sought. Where were they, where could they be? Stop! In
this drawer, quick, what was that that gleamed so white and new under
all those papers yellow with age? It was the box, the box! She
stretched out her hand to seize it--but the hand remained poised in
mid-air.

"_Psia krew_, what are you doing there?" cried Mr. Tiralla. He had
awaked.

She wheeled round and they gazed at each other with pale faces. She
stood there like a delicate, feathery leaf that a breath of wind has
caused to tremble; but he was trembling too. Neither of them was
capable of saying a word. Mr. Tiralla had not uttered a sound since his
first cry; he was like a man who is being choked, and his face grew
purple as he struggled for air. What was she doing there, what did she
want, what was she looking for? Why did she come so furtively when he
was asleep? Did she want to rob him? He had never refused her any
money, it could not be that she was looking for. Perhaps it was for
the----? He grew rigid with horror, his tongue hung out of his mouth
and he gasped and gasped. "Let, let----" He could not say anything
more, but fury, fear, and the horror of it all, extorted from him an
inarticulate cry like that of an animal.

Then she, too, gave a shrill cry and ran out of the [Pg 216] room with
hair flying, leaving the drawers and the desk open.

He remained lying on his bed as though paralyzed; only his eyes
wandered timidly from corner to corner. He was so terrified; the
strong, stout man felt all at once quite helpless. Had she gone--had
she really gone? He listened to every sound. But there was nobody
creeping outside in the passage, and everything remained perfectly
quiet until Marianna's noisy tread was heard. Then her loud singing in
the kitchen and her rattling with the rings on the stove gave him
courage, and he stood up and tottered to the bureau with shaking knees,
took the box with the powders out of the drawer which she had left
open, and hid it inside his shirt. If only she did not find it--if only
she did not find it!

Then he staggered to the washstand and stuck his head, which felt
dizzy, deep down into the basin. How his face smarted. He was cooling
it as the maid came in.

Marianna clasped her hands in dismay. "What is it, Panje?" Oh, dear,
what a sight Pan Tiralla was. It was awful, his face was scratched all
over. Where had he got it? Had he fallen amongst thorns? She ran into
the kitchen lamenting and fetched a little lard to pu