But Yagna, walking by with faraway looks, passed on without even seeing her.
Teresa, in a fury, said to the girls that were by, washing at the millpond:
“See ye how she stalks past—never looking at anyone, either by day or by night?”
“And,” cried another, “arrayed as if it were the local feast today!”
“Daily she sits combing her hair till noon!”
“She’s always buying ribbons and headgear!” they chimed in, full of hate. Since some time, whenever she appeared in the village, she was followed everywhere by the women’s piercing looks—sharp as cats’ claws, stinging as a viper’s fangs. And on every occasion they would find something to say against her. The goodwives whispered in Ploshka’s enclosure, as she passed:
“It is unbearable, the way she sets herself above us all.”
“And dresses like a Manor Lady: whence can the money come?”
“Has she not great favour with the Voyt?”
“Antek also, they say, is very openhanded with her.”
But here Yagustynka interfered. “Oh, no, Antek cares no more for her than a dog for a fifth leg! ’Tis someone else she has taken up with now!” And she smiled with such a knowing air that they all pestered her to know who this was. She would not, and told them:
“I am no scandalmonger! Ye have eyes: find out for yourselves!”
And from that time, a hundred pair of eyes spied all Yagna’s doings still more closely than ever. So many hounds in pursuit of one hare!
Yagna, thus constantly watched by prying eyes, went her way quite unconscious; nor would she have cared in any case, having the bliss of seeing her Yanek daily, and losing her whole being in his eyes.
Almost every day, she would look in at the organist’s, always when Yanek was at home. Sometimes he happened to sit by her side, and she knew that his eyes were upon her; and then her face glowed, all on fire, her feet trembled and her heart would beat like a hammer. At other times, when he was giving his sisters lessons in the next room, she would listen, holding her breath, and so extremely attentive to the sweet sounds of his voice that the old dame once asked her why she gave ear so eagerly.
“Because Master Yanek teaches in such learned wise that I cannot understand anything at all!”
“And are ye so fain to do so?” she replied with a smile of pity. “My son has learned in no mean school!” she added with pride, and continued expatiating on her Yanek for some time. She was fond of Yagna, and liked her to come; the girl was handy at every sort of work, and besides very often brought something—pears, wild strawberries, whortleberries, sometimes even a pat of fresh butter.
Yagna listened with eager attention to all she said; but when Yanek left the house, she would presently hurry away—to her mother’s, she said. She loved to gaze on him from a distance; and at times, too, hidden in the rye or behind a tree, she would gloat over him for a long time, and with such tender emotion that the tears would fall in spite of her.
But her joy was greatest in the short warm clear summer nights. As soon as her mother was asleep, she carried her bedding out into the orchard, where, lying on her back, she looked up at the stars scintillating through the treetops, and dreamed sweetly of the “world without end.” The sultry night-winds swept over her face and the stars looked down into her wide-open eyes; the voices out of the fragrant darkness, the breathless whispers of the leaves, the broken rustling of the creatures slumbering around—feeble sighs and dull stifled calls and timid chuckling sounds—melted within her into a weird music, penetrating her with a hot thrill that made her catch her breath, and quiver, and fall down, rolling on the cool dewy sward on which she lay like a fruit fallen from the tree. There she would remain, prone and powerless, in the clutch of the almighty force of Nature, as did the ripening fields, the fruit-burdened branches, the broad yellow wheat-lands, ready for the sickle, the birds, the blasts, or for any fate that awaited them, indifferently expecting all!
Thus did Yagna spend the short warm clear nights and the burning days of July: they passed by her like a delightful dream, repeated again and again, and always more desirable.
And she moved about, too, as in a dream, scarce knowing whether it was day or night.
Dominikova noted that something unusual was taking place in Yagna, but she knew not what: only she was rejoiced at her unexpected and most fervent piety, and would often say:
“Yagna, I tell you: whoso seeks God, to him doth God come!”
And Yagna would then smile a quiet humble smile of expectant happiness, but said nothing.
And one day, quite unawares, she came upon Yanek, sitting by the mound that was the village landmark, book in hand. She could not take to flight, so stood there stock-still, confused and blushing deeply.
“Why, what are you doing here?” he said.
She stammered something, fearing lest he had guessed how matters stood with her.
“Sit down; I can see you are hot and tired.”
As she hesitated whether to comply, he took her by the hand and seated her by his side; she, with a quick motion,
