She spent, however, about an hour at the stack, so that the horses ate fairly well; and she herself ate some seeds. She then moved on, and when she had travelled a number of furlongs, all at once she saw before her two persons carrying bundles of twigs on their backs.
One was a man not old, but not in his first youth, with a face pitted with small-pox, and with crooked eyes, ugly, repulsive, with a cruel, ferocious expression of face; the other, a stripling, was idiotic. This was to be seen at the first glance, by his stupid smile and wandering look.
Both threw down their bundles of twigs at sight of the armed horseman, and seemed to be greatly alarmed. But the meeting was so sudden, and they were so near, that they could not flee.
“Glory be to God!” said Basia.
“For the ages of ages.”
“What is the name of this farm?”
“What should its name be? There is the cabin.”
“Is it far to Mohiloff?”
“We know not.”
Here the man began to scrutinize Basia’s face carefully. Since she wore man’s apparel he took her for a youth; insolence and cruelty came at once to his face instead of the recent timidity.