Thereupon both the women listened, but the house was perfectly quiet.
"What kind of a noise was it?"
"Like a man falling heavily on the ground."
"You must have been dreaming; Stoyan's words frightened you, that's all, unless the cat or the dog knocked something down. You know, at night every noise sounds strange, uncouth, whilst in the day-time we'd never notice them. Now, the best thing you can do is to try and go off to sleep."
Alas! why are we not like the bird that puts its head under its wing and banishes at once the outer world from its view. Every endeavour she made to bring about oblivion seemed, on the contrary, to stimulate her to wakefulness, and thereby frustrate her efforts. Sleepiness only brought on mental irritation, instead of soft, drowsy rest. The most gloomy thoughts came into her mind. Why had her husband not come to fetch her? Perhaps Vranic, seeing himself discovered, had stabbed him to death. Then she thought that, in this case, all her trouble would be at an end. Thereupon she crossed herself devoutly, and uttered a prayer that her husband might not be murdered, even if he had been cruel to her. Still, she was quite sure that, if Radonic ever discovered her guilt, he would surely murder her—burn her, perhaps, like Gjuro had done.
Thereupon she heard the elderly man's slow and grave voice ringing in her ears:
"Slavs never forgive. Adultery amongst us is no trifle, as it is in
Venice."
She shuddered with terror. Every single word as it had been uttered had sunk deep into her breast, like drops of burning wax falling from Jeljena's gown. Each one was like the stab of a sharp knife cutting her to the quick.
Then again she fancied that Stoyan had sung that pisma only to taunt her.
She had once heard the pop read in the Bible about an adulteress in
Jerusolim who was to be stoned to death.