"Besides, I can't get the bard's words out of my head."
"In fact, poor thing, you are looking quite ill. Anyhow, I'll not allow you to go alone, so you must wait till I've put the house in order, and then I'll go with you."
As soon as breakfast was over, and Bellacic was out of the house, Mara got ready. She little knew that, though Milena was anxious to find out the dreadful truth of that night's mystery, she was in her heart very loth to return home.
Just as Mara was near the door, she, like all women, forgot something and had to go in, for—what she called—a minute. Milena stepped out alone. First, as she pushed the door open, the hinges gave a most unpleasant grating sound. She shivered, for this was a very bad omen. Then a cat mewed. Milena crossed herself. And, as if all this were not enough, round the corner came an old lame hag whom she knew. The old woman stopped.
"What, gospa! is it you? and where are you going so early in the morning?"
Milena shuddered, and her teeth chattered in such a way that she could hardly answer her. It was very bad to meet an old woman in the morning; worse still, a lame old woman; worst of all, to be asked where you are going.
The best thing on such a day would be to go back in-doors, and do nothing at all; for everything undertaken would go all wrong.
The old woman's curiosity having been satisfied, she hobbled away, and soon disappeared, leaving Milena more dejected and forlorn even than she had been before.
Mara came out, and found her ghastly pale; she tried to laugh the matter over, though she, too, felt that it was really no laughing matter. Weary and worn, poor Milena dragged herself homewards, but her knees seemed as if they were broken, and her limbs almost refused to carry her.
Soon they came in sight of the house; all the windows and the doors were shut—evidently Radonic was not at home.