'Dear me! And they didn't pull you about?'

'They only pulled my cap over my ears.'

'That is just like them; either they will smash you up, or else be kindness itself, it just depends what temper they're in.'

'But the way they drove down those hills made one's flesh creep. No sober man would have come out of it alive.'

Two sledges now overtook them; there was one traveller in the first and two in the second.

'Can you tell me where that sleigh party was driving to?' asked the occupant of the first.

'To the squire's.'

'Indeed!... Do you know if Josel, the innkeeper, is at home?'

'I dare say he is, unless he is off on some swindle or other.'

'Do you know if your squire has sold his estate yet?' asked a guttural voice from the second sledge.

'You shouldn't ask him such a question, Fritz,' remonstrated his companion.

'Oh! the devil take the whole business!' replied Fritz.

'Aha, here they are again!' said Slimak.

'What do all those Old Testament Jews want?' asked Maciek.

'There was only one Jew, the others are Germans from Wolka.'

'The gentlefolks never have any peace; no sooner do they want to enjoy themselves, than the Jews drive after them,' said Maciek.

Indeed, the sledges conveying the travellers were now with difficulty driving towards the valley, and presently stopped at Josel's inn.

Barrels of burning pitch in front of the manor house threw a rosy glare over the wintry landscape; distant sounds of music came floating on the air.

Josel came out and directed the Jew's sledge to the manor. The Germans got out, and one of them shouted after the departing Jew: 'You will see nothing will come of it; they are amusing themselves.'

'Well, and what of that?'

'A n.o.bleman does not give up a dance for a business interview.'

'Then he will sell without it.'

'Or put you off.'

'I have no time for that.'

The facade of the manor-house glowed as in a bengal light; the sleigh-bells were still tinkling in the yard, where the coachmen were quarrelling over accommodation for their horses. Crowds of village people were leaning against the railings to watch the dancers flit past the windows, and to catch the strains of the music. Around all this noise, brightness, and merriment lay the darkness of the winter night, and from the winter night emerged slowly the sledge, carrying the silent, meditating Jew.

His modest conveyance stopped at the gate, and he dragged himself to the kitchen entrance; his whole demeanour betrayed great mental and physical tiredness. He tried to attract the attention of the cook, but failed entirely; the kitchen-maid also turned her back on him. At last he got hold of a boy who was hurrying across to the pantry, seized him by the shoulders, and pressed a twenty kopek-piece into his hand.

'You shall have another twenty kopeks if you will bring the footman.'

'Does your honour know Mateus?' The boy scrutinized him sharply.

'I do, bring him here.'

Mateus appeared without delay.

'Here is a rouble for you; ask your master if he will see me, and I will double it.' The footman shook his head.

'The master is sure to refuse.'

'Tell him, it is Pan Hirschgold, on urgent business from my lady's father. Here is another rouble, so that you do not forget the name.'

Mateus quickly disappeared, but did not quickly return. The music stopped, yet he did not return; a polka followed, yet he did not return. At last he appeared: 'The master asks you to come to the bailiff's office.' He took Pan Hirschgold into a room where several camp-beds had been made up for the guests. The Jew took off his expensive fur, sat down in an armchair by the fire and meditated.

The polka had been finished, and a vigorous mazurka began. The tumult and stamping increased from time to time; commands rang out, and were followed by a noise which shook the house from top to bottom. The Jew listened indifferently, and waited without impatience.

Suddenly there was a great commotion in the pa.s.sage; the door was opened impetuously, and the squire entered.

He was dressed as a Crakovian peasant in a red coat covered with jingling ornaments, wide, pink-and-white-striped breeches, a red cap with a peac.o.c.k's feather, and iron-shod shoes.

'How are you, Pan Hirschgold?' he cried good-humouredly, 'what is this urgent message from my father-in-law?'

'Read it, sir.'

'What, now? I'm dancing a mazurka.'

'And I am building a railway.'

The squire bit his lip, and quickly ran his eye over the letter. The noise of the dancers increased.

'You want to buy my estate?'

'Yes, and at once, sir.'

'But you see that I am giving a dance.'

'The colonists are waiting to come in, sir. If you cannot settle with me before midnight, I shall settle with your neighbour. He gains, and you lose.'

The squire was becoming feverish.

'My father-in-law recommends you highly...all the same,...on the spur of the moment....'

'You need only write a word or two.'

The squire dashed his red cap down on the table. 'Really, Pan Hirschgold, this is unbearable!'