'You traitor, you son of a dog!' she burst out. 'Sell your land! You would sell the Lord Jesus to the Jews! Tired of being a gospodarz, are you? What is Jendrek to do? And is a gospodyni to die in a stranger's house?'
She drew him into the middle of the frozen river. 'Stand here, Judas,' she cried, seizing him by the hands. 'Will you sell your land? Listen! Sell it, and God will curse you and the boy. This ice shall break if you don't give up that devil's thought! I won't give you peace after death, you shall never sleep! When you close your eyes I will come and open them again…listen!' she cried in a paroxysm of rage, 'if you sell the land, you shall not swallow the holy sacrament, it shall turn to blood in your mouth.'
'Jesus!' whispered the man.
'…Where you tread, the grass shall be blasted! You shall throw a spell on everyone you look at, and misfortune shall befall them.'
'Jesus…Jesus!' he groaned, tearing himself from her and stopping his ears.
'Will you sell the land?' she cried, with her face close to his. He shook his head. 'Not if you have to draw your last breath lying on filthy litter?'
'Not though I had to draw…so help me God!'
The woman was staggering; her husband carried her to the other bank and reached the stable, where the two farm labourers were installed.
'Open the door!' He hammered until one of them appeared.
'Clear out! I am going to put my wife in here.'