"Let's have done with them!... No need for such scoundrels to have a priest!... Let them die like dogs! No delay, or else they'll run and fetch the Cossacks! Kill them off!"
But the Gajdas, feeling that this brought a possibility of rescue, began to implore despairingly:
"Men, have pity! Send the priest; we want to make our confession! The priest!..."
Unfortunately for them, the priest was not at home. He had gone away somewhere the previous evening.
"Then let them make their confession before all the people," someone said.
"Very good! Yes, let them confess—and tell the truth!" the rest assented.
Someone cut the ropes binding their hands, and set them on their knees before the church door.
"Open the church! They are going to make their confession! Open it!" shouted many voices.
But Jędrzej exclaimed: "No need of that! It's a sin to bring such scoundrels into the house of God; it's enough that we allow them to come on to consecrated ground. Quiet there!" he called to the dissatisfied women who kept on talking; and, bending over the Gajdas, he said:
"Now confess; but only say the plain truth. The people have power to forgive you your trespasses." He knelt down beside them, and all the rest followed his example, sighing and crossing themselves.