The squire had said nothing, but his trembling moustaches had warned them that he would not forget that answer.

'I always told Gryb not to talk with a long tongue,' Slimak sighed.

'Now it is I who will have to suffer for his impudence.'

A new idea came into his head. Why should he not pay for the field in work instead of cash? The Squire might accept it, for he wasn't half a bad gentleman. It was true, the other gospodarze looked down upon him, because he was the only one who hired himself out for work; but whatever happened, the squire would always be the squire, and they the gospodarze. He hummed again, but under his breath, so that the boys should not hear him:

'The cuckoo cuckooed in the forest, Say the neighbours, I am the dullest.'

Suddenly he turned upon Stasiek, and wanted to know why he was dragging along as if he were being taken to jail, and didn't talk.

'I...I am wondering why we are going to the manor?'

'Don't you want to go?'

'No; I am afraid.'

'What is there to be afraid of?' snapped Slimak, but he himself was shivering.

'You see, my boy,' he continued, more kindly, 'we have bought the new cow from the Soltys and we shall want more hay, so I am going to ask the squire to let me rent the field.'

'I see....But, daddy, I am always wondering what the gra.s.s thinks when the cows chew it up.'

'What should it think? It doesn't think at all.'

'But, daddy, why shouldn't it think? When people are standing round the church in a crowd, they look like gra.s.s from a distance, all red and yellow, like flowers in a field. If some horrible cow came and lapped them up with her tongue, wouldn't they be able to think?'

'People would scream, but the gra.s.s says nothing.'

'It does say something! A dry stick cracks when you tread on it, and a fresh branch cries and clings to the tree when you tear it off, and the gra.s.s squeaks and holds on with its feet,...and...'

'Oh! you are always saying queer things,' interrupted his father; 'and you, Jendrek, are you glad that we are going to the manor-house?'

'Is it I who is going or you?' said Jendrek, shrugging his shoulders.

'I shouldn't go.'

'Well, what would you do?'

'I should take the hay and stack it in the yard; then let them come!'

'You would dare to cut the squire's hay?'

'How is it his? Has he sown the gra.s.s? or is the field near his house?'

'Don't you see, silly, that the meadow is his just as well as his other fields?'

'They are his, so long as no one takes them. Our land and our house were his once, now they are yours. Why should he be better off than we are? He does nothing, yet he has enough land for a hundred peasants.'

'He has it because he has it, because he is a gentleman.'

'Pooh! If you wore a coat, and your trousers outside your boots, you would be a gentleman; but for all that you wouldn't have the land.'

'You are stupid,' said Slimak, getting angry.

'I know I am stupid, that is because I can't read or write, but Jasiek Gryb can, and therefore he is clever, and he says there must be equality, and there will be when the peasants have taken the land from the n.o.bility.'

'Jasiek had better leave off taking money from his father's chest before he disposes of other people's property! He might give mine to Maciek and take the squire's for himself, but he would never give his own away. Let it be as G.o.d has ordered.'

'Did G.o.d give the land to the squire?'

'G.o.d has ordered that there should not be equality in the world. A pine is tall, a hazel is low, the gra.s.s is still lower. Look at sensible dogs. When a pail of dish-water is brought out to them, the strongest drinks first, and the others stand by and lick their lips, although they know that he will take the best part; then they all take their turn. If they start quarrelling, they upset the pail and the strong get the better of the weak.

If people were to say to each other: Disgorge what you have swallowed, the strong would drive off the weak and leave them to starve.'

'But if G.o.d has given the land to the squire, how can they begin to distribute it to the people now?'

'They distribute it so that every one should get what is right for him, not that he should take what he likes.'

His son's amazing views added a new worry to Slimak's mind.

'The rascal! listening to people of that sort! he'll never make a peasant; it's a mercy he hasn't stolen yet.'

They were nearing the drive to the manor-house, and Slimak was walking more and more slowly; Stasiek looked more and more frightened, Jendrek alone kept his saucy air.

Through the dark branches of old lime-trees the roof and chimneys of the manor became visible. Suddenly two shots rang out.

'They are shooting!' cried Jendrek excitedly, and ran forward. Stasiek caught hold of his father's pocket. Slimak called Jendrek, who returned sulkily. They were now on the terrace, where the manor-fields stretched on either side. Lower down lay the village, still lower the field by the river, in front of them was the manor, with the outbuildings, enclosed by a railing.

'There! that's the manor-house,' said Slimak to Stasiek. 'Isn't it beautiful?'

'Which one is it?'

'Why! the one with pillars in front.'

Another shot rang out, and they saw a man in fanciful sportsman's dress.

'The horseman of yesterday,' cried Jendrek.

'Ah, that freak!' said Slimak, scrutinizing him with his head on one side; 'he'll bring me bad luck about the field.'

'He has a splendid gun,' cried Jendrek; 'but what is he shooting?

There's nothing but sparrows here.'

'Perhaps he is shooting at us?' suggested Stasiek timidly.

'Why should he be shooting at us?' his father rea.s.sured him; 'shooting at people isn't allowed. It's true there is no knowing what a lunatic might do.'

The sportsman approached, loading his gun; the tattered remains of some sparrows hung from his bag.

'The Lord be praised,' said Slimak, taking off his cap.