The hubbub subsided slightly, and only the women continued their quarrelsome chattering.
"Do you plead guilty?" he asked, bending over them.
"No! We're wrongly charged! They are lying—that's all their spite! We swear to it!" they cried in despair.
"If you plead guilty, you will get a lighter sentence," he urged them, relenting a little.
The miller, Jędrzej, and those few who were less excited, still tried to protect them from the enraged crowd, which moved on towards them like a storm, shouting and flourishing sticks. But the women managed to jump at them and scratch them spitefully.
The scene at the church door became more terrible every instant.
"We must have the priest here before we finish with them!... The priest!" the miller cried suddenly.
The people stopped. Someone ran to fetch the Vicar.
"Or shall we put off carrying out the sentence till to-morrow?" the miller proposed.
Thumping their sticks together, the crowd shouted: