This judgment proved inaccurate, however, for on the eve of Yatsek's marriage, when his quarters were filled with acquaintances who had come with good wishes and presents, the four brothers appeared in their very best garments. Their faces were calm, serious, and full of mysteriousness. "What has happened to you?" asked Pan Serafin. "We have been tracking a wild beast!" replied Lukash. "Quiet!" said Mateush, giving him a punch in the side, "Do not tell till the time comes." Then he looked at the priest, at Pan Serafin and his son, and turning finally to Yatsek, began to clear his throat, like a man who intends to speak in some detail. "Well, begin right away!" urged his brothers. But he looked at them with staring eyes, and inquired,-- "How was it?" "How? Hast thou forgotten?" "It has broken in me." "Wait--I know," cried Yan. "It began: 'Our most worthy--' Go on!" "Our most worthy Pilate," began Mateush. "Why 'Pilate'?" interrupted the priest. "Perhaps it is Pylades?" "Benefactor thou hast hit the nail on the head," cried Yan. "As I live, it is Pylades." "Our worthy Pylades!" began Mateush, now reassured, "though not the iron Boristhenes, but the gold-bearing Tagus itself were to flow in our native region, we, being exiled through attacks of barbarians, should have nothing but our hearts glowing with friendship to offer thee, neither could we honor this day as it merits by any thank-offering--" "Thou speakest as if cracking nuts," cried out Lukash excitedly. But Mateush kept on repeating: "As it merits,--as it merits--" He stopped, looked at his brothers, calling with his eyes for rescue, but they had forgotten entirely that which was to come later. The Bukoyemskis began now to frown, and the audience to titter. Seeing this Pan Serafin resolved to assist them. "Who composed this speech for you?" asked he. "Pan Gromyka, of Pan Shumlanski's regiment," said Mateush. "There it is. A strange horse is more likely to balk and rear than your own beast; so now embrace Yatsek and tell him what ye have to say." "Surely that is the best way." And they embraced Yatsek one after another. Then Mateush continued,--"Yatsus! we know that thou art no Pilate, and thou knowest that after losing Kieff regions we are poor fellows, in short we are naked. Here is all that we can give, and accept with thankful heart even this." Then they handed him some object wound up in a piece of red satin, and at that moment the three younger brothers repeated, with feeling,-- "Accept it, Yatsus, accept! Accept!" "I accept, and God repay you," answered Yatsek. Thus speaking, he put the object on the table, and began to unroll the satin. All at once he started back, and cried,-- "As God lives, it is the ear of a man!" "But dost thou know whose ear? Martsian Krepetski's!" thundered the brothers. "Ah!" All present were so tremendously astonished that silence followed immediately. "Tfu!" cried Father Voynovski, at last.