Hanka’s anxious devotion to Antek

Hanka’s anxious devotion to Antek joins fierce practical loyalty to the fear that he may give his love to Jagna. Its defining contrast is between Hanka’s repeated efforts to hold her marriage and household together and Antek’s inward absorption in another woman. The attachment appears not as a settled assurance but as a painful alternation between hope, jealousy, self-doubt, and renewed care.

Loyalty and fear of separation

At one point, Hanka pats the money held against her bosom and considers asking around for work for Antek. She will not simply let him leave; she imagines his departure to another village, among strangers, as something she could not endure. Her resolve is bound to a strong sense of belonging: she has grown up here and will not wander through the world like the wind. Even amid snow deep enough to swallow her clogs, she holds to the possibility of finding work for him rather than accepting separation as inevitable. Money, work, and place all become parts of her attempt to keep their shared life intact.

That determination exists alongside the insecurity of a wife living with a husband whose attention is elsewhere. When she hears that Antek has been seen roaming the village at night, she initially gives the report a less painful meaning. She understands his wandering as a return of the wrong done him, a private distress that others have misread and embellished. Her first response is therefore not certainty that he is betraying her, but an effort to make the rumor fit what she already believes about his suffering. She still expects work might clear his head of romantic preoccupations, and clings to the thought that ordinary labor can restore him to himself and to the household.

The rumor about Jagna

That protective interpretation breaks when the report becomes specific: Antek is pursuing Jagna. Hanka cannot breathe easily; her heart pounds, her head spins, and she has to brace herself against a tree beside the pond. She tries to hold open the possibility that the miller has fooled her, gripping that doubt as a refuge. Yet the possibility of another betrayal lands on top of hardship she already feels unable to bear. She runs home nearly breathless, with the fear following her into the cottage. Antek is not there.

The night that follows gives jealousy the form of sustained, private labor. After feeding the children and putting them to bed, Hanka sits at her spinning wheel and works until cockcrow. The miller’s report returns through her mind as steadily as thread passes through her fingers. The surrounding house is quiet and bitterly cold; frost presses at the walls while the wheel continues to hum. In that stillness, Hanka turns the rumor inward, measuring herself against Jagna. Jagna seems to her lovely, full, and captivating, while she sees herself as thin and unable to hold Antek’s desire. Her thought that even giving everything of herself would make no difference exposes the depth of her powerlessness: devotion cannot compel the affection she longs for.

The image of Hanka leaning her head on the wheel gathers her distress into a bodily stillness. She cannot cry freely or defend herself; tears fall onto the yarn and freeze. The work continues, but it does not resolve the uncertainty. The wheel’s tireless motion contrasts with her feeling that nothing she gives can change Antek’s heart. Her jealousy is therefore more than anger at a rival: it becomes a judgment against herself, even though the evidence offers no reason to treat Jagna’s beauty as a measure of Hanka’s worth.

Care amid emotional distance

By the next day, Hanka has steadied herself not because her fear has been answered, but because she believes the household cannot wait for her to grieve. The children, the farm, and every other trouble rest on her shoulders. She prays for the Sorrowful Mother and Jesus to set matters right, vows to make a pilgrimage to Częstochowa in spring, and promises Masses and wax candles when she is better off. Her religious promises turn helplessness into a plan of endurance: she cannot control Antek, but she can keep working, care for those who depend on her, and appeal for divine help.

A later night makes the distance between the spouses especially stark. Hanka moves close to Antek with uncomplicated affection and trust, pressing her face and body to his arm. She asks whether he will go to work the next day, partly because she wants to hear his voice and reach him. When he says he must go, she encourages him and embraces him, seeking his mouth with hers. Antek remains motionless and unresponsive. His thoughts are fixed on Jagna; he neither feels nor acknowledges Hanka’s embrace. The scene sets her physical nearness against his emotional absence, showing how her tenderness persists even when he cannot meet it.

Rejection and significance

The strain also appears in Hanka’s encounter with Jagna at church. Jagna holds back so Hanka can take holy water first and offers a greeting, but Hanka does not answer or reach for the water. She passes with a look of open hostility. Jagna’s tears make the injury visible, while her attention soon turns toward the music and sacred images. The exchange shows that Hanka’s private fear has entered the public and religious space of the village: even a small gesture at the church entrance becomes charged with the rivalry between wife and desired lover.

Across these moments, Hanka’s devotion is expressed through actions as much as feeling: keeping money for Antek’s possible work, refusing to let him go, spinning through the night, tending the children, shouldering the farm, praying, and reaching for him when he lies beside her. The pattern is not a simple triumph of loyalty. Her care survives the suspicion that he prefers Jagna, but it does not protect her from self-reproach or guarantee reciprocity. The scenes make her attachment consequential precisely because it remains active under uncertainty: Hanka continues to make a life for the household while fearing that the man for whom she is doing it has turned his heart elsewhere.