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The wind had gone down, but the snow was now falling in large, thick flakes. The evening twilight crept into the room. Antkowa was sitting in front of the fire; she broke off twig after twig of the dry firewood, and carelessly threw them upon the fire. She seemed to be purposing something, for she glanced again and again at the window, and then at the bed.
Antkowa bowed down to his feet, wiping tears of rage from her eyes, and after she had poured the holy water into a chipped basin and put the asperges-brush beside it, she went out into the passage, where a few people who had come with the priest were waiting already. 'Christ be praised. 'In Eternity. 'What is it? 'Oh nothing! Only that he's come here to give up... with us, whom he has wronged.
Antkowa took a saucepan full of cabbage off the fire and put it in front of her husband, cut a piece of bread and gave it him, together with the spoon. The peasant ate in silence, but when he had finished he undid his fur, stretched his legs, and said: 'Is there any more?
That plague of a boy has left me without a drop of water. She stepped outside and called 'Ignatz! Hi! Ignatz! A good half-hour passed, then the snow creaked under stealthy footsteps and a shadow stole past the window. Antkowa seized a piece of wood and stood by the door which was flung wide open; a small boy of about nine entered the room. 'You stinking idler! Running about the village, are you?
Purple in the face, scratched all over, and covered with filth, they looked like witches. Their fury was boundless; they sprang at each other again, and had to be separated a second time. At last Antkowa began to sob hysterically with rage and exhaustion, tore her own hair and wailed: 'Oh Jesus! Oh little child Jesus! Oh Mary!
'Well, dear, you'd better go for the priest, make haste... look! 'All right, all right. Poor thing! He looks as if he couldn't last much longer. I must make haste... I'm off... and she tied her apron more firmly over her head. 'Good-bye, Antkowa. 'Go with God.
When all was silent, Antkowa gently opened the door into the next room where the bundles of flax lay. From underneath these she fetched a packet of banknotes wrapped up in a linen rag, and added the money. She smoothed the notes many times over, opened them out, folded them up again, until she had gazed her fill; then she put out the light and went to bed beside her husband.
He could not understand what was happening to him; his whole frame shook as in a fever, and he stood by the door panting and unable to utter a word. Antkowa was at that moment teaching little Magda her prayer. She turned her head towards her husband with questioning eyes. 'Thy will be done... she babbled thoughtlessly. 'Thy will... ... be done...
The pigs came running up to her, squeaking; she brought out a bowlfull of potatoes and emptied it. The mother-pig began to eat greedily, and the piglets poked their pink noses into her and pulled at her until nothing but their loud smacking could be heard. Antkowa lighted a small lamp above the fireplace and tore open the chaplet, with her back turned towards the window.
Antkowa shut her eyes and covered her hands with her apron, before she took hold of the old man's feet; they could hardly lift him, he was so heavy. They had barely put him down on a bench when she fled back into the house, throwing out a linen-rag to her husband to cover the corpse. The children were busy scraping potatoes; she waited impatiently at the door.
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