A moment of deep silence followed; the men twisted their moustaches silently, the women stealthily wiped away their tears with the back of their hands.
"Gjuro was a brute!" at last broke out a youth, impetuously.
Nobody answered at once; then an elderly man said, slowly:
"Perhaps he was, but you are not a husband yet, Tripko; you are only in love. Adultery, amongst us, is no trifle, as it is in Venice, for instance; we Slavs never forgive."
"I don't say he ought to have forgiven; in his place I might have strangled her, but as for burning a woman alive, as a torch, I find it heinous!"
Milena, who had fancied herself in Jeljena's place, could not refrain her sobs any longer; moreover, it seemed to her as if her guilt had been found out, and she wished the earth would open and swallow her alive.
"Oh, my poor Milena!" said Mara, soothingly, "you are too tender-hearted; it is only a pisma, after all." Then, turning to her neighbour, she added: "She has not been well for some days, and then——" she lowered her voice to a whisper.
"I am sorry," said the bard, "that I upset you in this way but——"
"Oh! it is nothing, only I fancied I could see the poor woman burning; it was so dreadful!"
"Here," said Bellacic, "have a glass of slivovitz; it'll set you all right. Moreover, listen; I'll tell you a much finer story, only pay great attention, for I'm not very clever at story-telling. Are you all ears?"