"Oh, I say, don't look like that. If I were to publish everything that happens here," and the forester shrugged his shoulders, "I should never get any further." "But a man ought to--it's his duty--I'm obliged," and the gendarme, who had only been transferred to this post the spring before, pulled out an enormous note-book from his pocket with a determined look, and took out the pencil. "I always write everything down. Things were bad enough in Upper Silesia, but they seem to be worse here." [Pg 58] "Oh, you'll get used to them," said the forester reassuringly. "It's really very nice here. I shouldn't like to live anywhere else now. It was also rather difficult for me at first, and especially for my wife. She made enough fuss about it. But now I never hear anything more, and"--he paused for a moment, then added with a smile that was half embarrassed, half sly--"I only see what I want to see. What else is there for me to do? Am I to act in opposition to the nobility, who would continue to do exactly what they liked all the same, or am I to let the peasants kill me when they commit outrages in the royal woods? Of course I always go to the Przykop when I hear a shot; but if they don't shoot, if they only make use of their cudgels, what then?" He was right. They all agreed that it was no easy matter to be a forester. Still the gendarme did not exactly approve of Mr. Bilkowski speaking so frankly. "But, my dear fellow," and Bilkowski patted him on the shoulder, "we're all in the same boat. Why shouldn't I speak frankly amongst friends?" The priest cast a glance at the open door leading into the tap-room. Then he whispered to the schoolmaster, "Close it." Böhnke hastened to comply with the hint. "Do you think that the Tirallas would come to our Gardewitz ball?" asked the clerk from the post office, blushing like a young girl. "I'm getting it up, and if the Tirallas were coming I would arrange a cotillon with flowers. If we were to order them at a big shop in Posen we could get real ferns and wired flowers at sixpence a bouquet. Why, it would even be worth while writing to Berlin for them. If you want to give such a ball you must be prepared to spend something on it." "When do you intend having it?" This was a [Pg 59] matter that interested everybody, and the little man felt very important. "On Shrove Tuesday, as usual. After that there's always such a long spell where there's nothing whatever to do. It'll be splendid, I can tell you, splendid! I hope Sophia Tiralla will come." "Why shouldn't she, I should like to know?" Schmielke resolved at all events to secure her for the cotillon in good time, as that meant he would take her into supper as well.