Now the company returned to the porch. Marysia saw through the grapevine leaves that the young lady was pouring tea from a silver tea-pot, and, as her mother used to say, such odoriferous water that thou art sweet the whole day from it. All drank tea, conversed and laughed joyously. Only then did it come to Marysia's head that in the condition of lords there is always more happiness than in that of simple people; and she herself did not know why the tears flowed again down her face. But those tears soon gave way to another impression. "One another" brought out steaming dishes; and then she remembered that she was hungry, for she had been unable to take dinner into her mouth, and in the morning she had only drunk a little milk.
"Oh, if they would give me even bones to gnaw!" and she knew they would surely give, not bones alone; but she dared not ask lest she might offend, and intrude before guests; for this Pan Skorabevski might be angry.
At last supper was over; the inspector went away immediately; half an hour later the two priests took their places in the mansion carriage. Marysia saw Pan Skorabevski seat the canon; then she judged that the moment had come, and she drew near the porch.
The carriage moved away; Pan Skorabevski cried to the driver, "If thou turn over the carriage on the embankment, I will turn thee over!" Afterward he looked at the sky wishing to see what kind of weather there would be on the morrow, then he noticed the white shift of the woman in the darkness.
"Who is there?"
"Repa's wife."
"Ah, that is you! Tell me quickly what is needed, for it is late."
She repeated everything again; he listened, puffing his pipe all the time, and then said,—
"My dear, I would help you willingly if I could; but I have promised myself not to mix up in the affairs of the village."
"I know, serene heir," said Marysia, with a quivering voice; "but I thought that perhaps you, serene heir, would take pity on me—" Her voice broke on a sudden.