easiness. The time had come which she had always feared; the swallows
were sitting huddled together on the telegraph wires, gathering
together for their flight. To-morrow would be St. Mary's Day, and then
they would depart. And he?

The woman pressed her hands together and gazed with terrified eyes at
the image of the Virgin in the niche. Martin had gone to confession,
for there would be plenary indulgence at the great festival to-morrow.
Oh, if only she, too, had gone! She felt sorry now that she had put it
off. Then they could have walked [Pg 242] to Starawie['s] and back
again together. What a long time it was since they had walked together.
He had not had time lately, they had been obliged to get on with the
harvest, and he had worked so hard that he was too tired in the evening
to do anything but sleep. How often she had fretted to think that she
was not strong enough to work in the fields like Marianna and other
girls, then she would have walked close behind him, would have stooped
continually to pick up the corn he had mown, and would never have felt
tired being so near him.

Now the harvest was over and the winter was drawing near, with its days
when there is hardly anything to do, days in which you can loiter about
and be so happy, _tete-a-tete_ with the one you love, but which are
awful, awful when you are alone. The woman shuddered.

Why should she always imagine that he intended to leave Starydwor? He
had never said a word about it. Nobody had ever said a word about it to
her, and still she felt sure of it. She had looked into his heart, and
it had lost some of its joyousness. But was there any place in
Starydwor where you could feel happy? No, no, no! Her very heart
quivered. She often felt as if the old walls were going to fall down on
her. And the old pines on the outskirts of the Przykop used to bend
their tops at night in the direction of the farm, and groan as though
the souls of those who could find no rest were moaning in their
branches.

And the rats, too, that had remained quiet for so long in the cellar,
had begun again to glide from corner to corner, and through Mrs.
Tiralla's dreams like ghosts that were pursuing her. Mr. Tiralla had
lived too long. If he were not there she would be happy, for then she
could leave the place with Martin [Pg 243] Becker, if he would not
remain at Starydwor; even though she would have to go on her bare feet,
how gladly she would do so!

Mrs. Tiralla looked wi