“To the Billeviches. I am from Vodokty, not from Lyubich.”
“Thou wilt return no more to Lyubich; stay here. Now I command thee to tell all thou knowest.”
The peasant cast himself on his knees at the threshold where he was standing. “Serene lady, I do not want to go back; the day of judgment is there. They are bandits and cut-throats; in that place a man is not sure of the day nor the hour.”
Panna Billevich staggered as if stricken by an arrow. She grew very pale, but inquired calmly, “Is it true that they fired in the room, at the portraits?”
“Of course they fired! And they dragged girls into their rooms, and every day the same debauchery. In the village is weeping, at the house Sodom and Gomorrah. Oxen are killed for the table, sheep for the table. The people are oppressed. Yesterday they killed the stable man without cause.”
“Did they kill the stable-man?”
“Of course. And worst of all, they abused the girls. Those at the house are not enough for them; they chase others through the village.”
A second interval of silence followed. Hot blushes came out on the lady’s face, and did not leave it.
“When do they look for the master’s return?”
“They do not know, my lady. But I heard, as they were talking to one another, that they would have to start to-morrow for Upita with their whole company. They gave command to have horses ready. They will come here and beg my lady for attendants and powder, because they need both there.”