Repa took his axe out of the box.
"No," said he, with a calm voice; "thy end has come at last, poor woman. Take leave of this world now, for thou shalt see it no more; thou wilt not sit in the cottage any longer, poor woman; thou wilt lie in the churchyard—"
She looked at him with terror.
"Dost wish to kill me?"
"Well, Marysia," said he, "do not lose time for nothing; make the sign of the cross, and then will be the end; thou wilt not even feel it, poor thing."
"Vavron, wilt thou, indeed?"
"Lay thy head on the box."
"Vavron!"
"Lay thy head on the box!" cried he, with foam on his lips.
"Oh, for God's sake, save me! People! sa—"