Gradually his aching head remembered the Soltys, the cow, the barley
soup and the large bottle of vodka. What had become of the vodka? He
was not quite certain on this point, but he was quite sure that the
soup had disagreed with him.

'I always say you should not eat hot barley soup at night,' he groaned.

He was no longer in doubt whether or no he was lying on the
manure-heap. Slowly he walked up to the cottage and hesitated on the
doorstep; but the rain began to fall more heavily. He stood still in
the passage and listened to Magda's snoring; then he cautiously opened
the door of the room.

Stasiek lay on the bench under the window, breathing deeply. There was
no sound from the alcove, and he realized that his wife was not asleep.

'Jagna, make room...' he tried to steady his voice, but he was seized
with fear.

There was no answer.

'Come...move up....'

'Be off with you, you tippler, and don't come near me.'

'Where am I to go?'

'To the manure-heap or the pigsty, that's your proper place. You
threatened me with the whip! I'll take it out of you!'