'God reward you,' said Slimak, embracing his knees.
Fritz took Hermann aside.
'Drive full speed to Wolka,' he said, 'and fetch miller Knap; we may be able to settle this affair to-night.'
'It's high time we did,' replied the other, audibly, 'we shan't hold out till the spring unless we do.'
Fritz swore.
Nevertheless, he took leave benevolently. Bending over the sick woman he said: 'She is quite unconscious.'
But in a strangely decided voice she ejaculated: 'Ah! unconscious!'
He drew back in confusion. 'She is delirious,' he said.
At daybreak the Germans brought the promised help, but Slimak paced backwards and forwards among the ruins of his homestead, from which the smell of smouldering embers rose pungently. He looked at his household goods, tumbled into the yard. How many times had he sat on that bench and cut notches and crosses into it when a boy. That heap of smouldering ruins represented his storehouse and the year's crop. How small the cottage looked now that it was reduced to walls, and how large the chimney! He took out his money, hid it under a heap of dry manure in the stable and strolled about again. Up the hill he went, with a feeling that they were talking about him in the village and would come to his help. But there was no one to be seen on the boundless covering of snow; here and there smoke rose from the cottages.
His imagination, keener than usual, conjured up old pictures. He fancied he was harrowing on the hill with the two chestnuts who were whisking their tails under his nose; the sparrows were twittering, Stasiek gazing into the river; by the bridge his wife was beating the linen, he could hear the resounding smacks, while the squire's brother-in-law was wildly galloping up and down the valley. Jendrek and Magda were answering each other in snatches of songs….