for in their hearts they had pity. Zbyshko knelt in the shadow at the litter, with his head on Danusia's knees, without a movement or a word; he was as if dead himself, but they circled about, now nearer, now more distant, plucking the yellow marigolds, the white pimpernel, the thickly growing rosy sorrel, and white flowers with the odor of honey. In damp depressions they found also lilies of the valley, and broom on the green ridge next the fallow land. When they had each an armful they surrounded the litter in a mournful circle and strewed flowers and plants on the remains of the dead woman, leaving exposed only her face, which amid the lilies looked white, calm, at rest in a sleep that could not be broken; the face was serene and simply angelic.
To Spyhov it was not quite five miles; so after some time, when sadness and pain had passed with their tears, they raised the litter and moved toward the pine forest from which the lands of Spyhov began.
The attendants led the horses after the procession. Zbyshko himself helped to carry the litter in front, and the women, laden with bundles of plants and flowers, preceded, singing pious hymns; they advanced slowly between the green meadow and the level, gray, fallow land, like any procession of mourners.
On the blue sky there was not the slightest cloud, and the whole world was nestling in golden sunlight.
