'Come on then, come on, you destitute creature!' 'I… destitute?'
'Yes, you! You would have rotted in a ditch, the vermin would have eaten you up, if Tomek hadn't married you.'
'I, destitute? Oh you carrion!' They sprang at each other, clutching at each other's hair; they fought in the narrow passage, screaming themselves hoarse all the time.
'You street-walker, you loafer… there! that's one for you! There's one for my fifteen acres, and for all the wrong you have done me, you dirty dog!'
'For the love of God, you women, leave off, leave off! It's a sin and a shame!' cried the neighbours.
'Let me go, you leper, will you let go?'
'I'll beat you to death, I will tear you to pieces, you filth!'
They fell down, hitting each other indiscriminately, knocked over the pail, and rolled about in the pigwash. At last, speechless with rage and only breathing hard, they still banged away at each other. The men were hardly able to separate them. Purple in the face, scratched all over, and covered with filth, they looked like witches. Their fury was boundless; they sprang at each other again, and had to be separated a second time.
At last Antkowa began to sob hysterically with rage and exhaustion, tore her own hair and wailed: 'Oh Jesus! Oh little child Jesus! Oh Mary! Look at this pestiferous woman…curse those heathen…oh! oh!…' she was only able to roar, leaning against the wall.
Tomekowa, meanwhile, was cursing and shouting outside the house, and banging her heels against the door.