So Jurgis spent the night. The whisky had only half
warmed him, and he could not sleep, exhausted as he was;
he would nod forward, and then start up, shivering with
the cold, and begin to remember again. Hour after hour
passed, until he could only persuade himself that it was
not morning by the sounds of music and laughter and
singing that were to be heard from the room. When at
last these ceased, he expected that he would be turned out
into the street; as this did not happen, he fell to wonder~
ing whether the man had forgotten him.

In the end, when the silence and suspense were no longer
to be borne, he got up and hammered on the door; and
the proprietor came, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
He was keeping open all night, and dozing between cus~
tomers.

"I want to go home," Jurgis said. "I'm worried about
my wife -- I can't wait any longer."

"Why the hell didn't you say so before?" said the man.
"I thought you didn't have any home to go to."

Jurgis went outside. It was four o'clock in the morn~
ing, and as black as night. There were three or four
inches of fresh snow on the ground, and the flakes were
falling thick and fast. He turned toward Aniele's and
started at a run.

There was a light burning in the kitchen window and
the blinds were drawn. The door was unlocked and
Jurgis rushed in.

Aniele, Marija, and the rest of the women were huddled
about the stove, exactly as before; with them were
several new-comers, Jurgis noticed -- also he noticed that
the house was silent.

"Well?" he said.

No one answered him; they sat staring at him with
their pale faces. He cried again: "Well?"

And then, by the light of the smoky lamp, he saw
Marija, who sat nearest him, shaking her head slowly.
"Not yet," she said.

And Jurgis gave a cry of dismay. "Not _yet?"_

[[224]]

p223 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p224w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p225

v?