She began to be tormented with a desire to know exactly how she stood, and what was going on about her. Pirka was a queer creature, certainly; but she was the only woman in the house, and women always hold together, especially in such a house as this. She was not afraid of speaking out before Pirka.
Pirka fed the dove and gave it water, and then stuck it into Michal's pocket again.
"There now!" she said. "She feels all the better for that, I know."
Then she covered up the pretty lady with a warm counterpane and a bearskin, and while doing so caught sight of the small silk sachet which was fastened round her neck. Pirka's eyes began to sparkle savagely. She thought it was an amulet against witchcraft; but Michal told her that it was only a talisman against the plague, nothing more. Then Pirka laughed.
"You don't need that here. The plague never penetrates into this house. At the time of the great Egyptian sickness the headsmen were the gravediggers. Not one of them died."
"How was that?"
"Why, don't you know? They've made a compact with Death."
Of course no one need take this literally, but it is certain that men with such blunted nerves as headsmen are not so liable to contagion as other people.
"It is a memento of my poor mother," said Michal, pressing the silken sachet to her lips.
"Don't do that," said Pirka, in a warning voice. "As often as one kisses such mementos the dead person turns round in his grave."