At this the company was delighted. Fatia Negra's manly tenderness was appreciated by everyone and old Onucz, radiant with joy, turned towards his cronies: "You see it is not my money but my daughter that he is after!"
And yet if Fatia Negra had only been able to foresee what was about to happen the next instant, if only he had been able to guess what would happen during the first few moments of the first approaching quarter of an hour, could he but have heard one step, one bump which might have told him what was going on just then above his head, instead of extending his hands towards the girl, he would have done much more wisely if he had grasped in each hand one of the sacks lying on the other scale and made off with it somewhere through that dark corridor which nobody knew of but he himself, under the special protection of the devil. Just now, however, the devil was evidently not looking after him as carefully as usual, for he returned to the altar with the girl in his arms and deposited his load on the altar steps. The girl knelt down.
"Strew over her corn moistened with honey!" whispered old Onucz to the bridesmaids;—he considered this old custom as of the highest importance. Possibly it was a symbol of fruitfulness.
Anicza wanted Fatia Negra to bend down to her. She had something to whisper in his ear. He leant over her as she desired, drew her pretty face close up to his, and the girl timidly whispered:
"Are you going to take me away under the earth?"
"Are you afraid I shall do so?"
"With you I will go wherever you choose and will fear nothing."
"I take you at your word."
"I don't care. Whither lies the way, to the right or to the left?"
"To the left. Everything which brings luck must be done lefthandedly."