A pale face and a pair of black eyes gleamed for an instant at the window.
“Mother, mother mine!” whispered Galya. “Here’s that wicked miller again standing at the window and tapping on the pane.”
“Ah, she doesn’t lean out to put her arms around me and kiss me this time, even by mistake,” thought the miller sadly.
The girl came out softly and stood a long way off with her arms folded on her white breast.
“What do you mean by knocking again?”
Alas, it is bitter for a man to hear such cold words from the girl who has been his darling love! The miller longed to embrace her girlish form and show her why he had knocked. To tell you the truth, he was already beginning to sidle toward her when he remembered what Kharko had told him, and answered instead:
“Why should I not knock when you owe me so much that you will never be able to pay me? Your hut isn’t worth the debt.”
“If you know we shall never pay you, don’t come knocking at the window by night, you godless man! You will drive my old mother into her grave.”
“Who the devil is driving her into her grave, Galya? If you only would let me, I would give your mother a peaceful old age.”
“You’re lying!”