The excessive warmth of the heated room, his weariness after a long tramp through the snowstorm, and the strong drink – all disposed him to sleepiness. And he would probably have fallen asleep, if not for the re-entrance of the old man. The innkeeper carried under his arm two bottles of wine, and filling glasses for his guest and himself, he said to Ozarski, smacking his lips loudly:

‘A superior Hungarian vintage. Why don’t you try it? It’s older than I am.’

Ozarski mechanically tossed it down. He felt dizzy. The old man was looking at him warmly, from the corner of his eye:

‘Ah, that’s because you haven’t eaten enough, sir. And it’ll do you good for the night … .’

The engineer didn’t understand.

‘For the night? What do you mean?’

‘Ah, nothing, nothing,’ the other dismissed quickly. ‘My, you’ve got strong legs, sir.’

And he pinched his thigh.

Ozarski abruptly drew back, pushing the chair with him. At the same time he searched in his pocket for the revolver that was constantly with him during long expeditions.

The old man leered slimily with his eyes, and said in a surprised voice:

‘Sir, why do you jump up from your chair? It’s just a simple joke, nothing more. It’s just from great friendliness. I’ve taken a liking to you. Besides, we have a lot of time on our hands.’

And as if to quieten him down, he retreated and leaned his back against the wall.

The engineer composed himself. Wanting to turn the conversation to another, directly opposite track, he asked impudently:

‘Where’s your girl? Why is she hiding behind that door? Hey, instead of these stupid jokes, bring her to me for the night. I won’t pay badly.’

The innkeeper seemed not to understand.

‘Pardon me, sir, but I have no girl, and beyond that door there is no one now.’

Ozarski, already well intoxicated, flew into a rage.

‘Who are you, old bull, to talk such nonsense right to my face? Where is the girl I had on my knees a moment ago? Call Makryna here, and off with you!’

The giant didn’t change his calm position by the wall, but smiling playfully, looked with interest at the irritated man:

‘Ah, Makryna, so we’re called Makryna today.’

And then ignoring his angry guest, he left with a heavy step to the neighbouring room where the girl had disappeared. Ozarski rushed after him, wanting to force his way inside, but at that moment he saw Makryna coming out.

She was dressed only in her shirt. Her golden-red hair fell in a cascade over her shoulders, a reddish-brassy colour flickering in the light.

In her hands she was holding three baskets full of freshly-kneaded bread. Placing them on a bench nearby, she reached for a pair of tongs and started removing the glowing embers from the oven. Leaning toward the black opening, her figure curved with a strong, firm arch, emphasizing her healthy, maiden shape.

Ozarski forgot himself. He grabbed her in that half-bent position and, raising her shirt, started to cover her flushed body with scorching kisses.

Makryna, laughing, did not interfere. Meanwhile, removing the smouldering firebrands, she carelessly left the rest of the glowing embers along the edges, after which, with the help of a brush, she cleared away the strewn ashes. But the passionate embraces of her guest apparently hindered her too much, for, freeing herself from his arms, she grabbed a shovel and jokingly threatened him with it. Ozarski yielded momentarily, waiting until she would finish with the bread. She proceeded to toss out all the loaves from the basket one right after the other, and sprinkling them one more time with flour, she placed them in the oven. Then she grabbed the oven cover hanging on a string beside her and closed the opening.

The engineer trembled with impatience. Seeing that the work was finished, he advanced predatorily and, pulling her toward the bed, tried to tear off her shirt. But the girl defended herself.

‘Not now. It’s too early. Later, in about an hour, near midnight, I’ll come to take out the bread. Then you will have me. Well, let go now, let go! If I say I’ll come, I’ll come.