Boleslav was too lost in thought to notice their strange and unnatural behaviour towards himself, and was not even aware, as they walked through the village, that he was always left to walk alone, though now and then he stepped confidentially to the side of one or other of them. He had accomplished the first chapter of his work. His father was laid to rest as befitted his rank, and yet it seemed as if the real work was only just beginning. He beheld all he had to do towering like a great inaccessible mountain in front of him. The mouldering ruins must be built up again; what was now a waste overgrown by weeds must be restored to a waving sea of golden corn; he must strive to endow his neglected property with new wealth, and his tarnished name with new honour: and then he saw, as the goal of all this striving, the face of the beloved beckoning him onwards. If he was too bowed down now with a consciousness of shame and disgrace to look into her pure, maidenly eyes, _then_ he would be able to go to her and say, "Now, all is expiated. I am worthy to lay myself at your feet." Yes, he would struggle tooth and nail--work day and night--to attain this end. At first it seemed almost madness to think of such a gigantic undertaking.... But he had his friends to help him.... After all, it would not be a single-handed struggle. Had not they to-day helped him to achieve the impossible? Would not they, true to their sacred oath, continue to stand by him in need with their advice and sympathy? And perhaps their noble example would in time break down the barrier that divided him from his fellow-creatures, and lead to his father's sin being at last consigned to the limbo of forgotten history. Higher and higher rose his hopes as he meditated thus. They had left the village street behind them, and now reached the drawbridge, where the vehicles had been put up. The horses, each with its nose in a bundle of hay, waited patiently by the fence to which they were tethered. Immediately, without a moment's delay, the comrades set to work to harness them. This frightened Boleslav out of his dream. "What!" he exclaimed. "Off already, before I have thanked you?" No one spoke. "Won't you take a glass of wine now the job is finished? And I wanted to ask your advice about other matters." Peter Negenthin strode up, and looking him straight in the face, drew his clenched fist from the sling. "We would rather die of thirst," he hissed through his set teeth, "than take a drink of water from your hand." Boleslav staggered backwards as if he had been hit between the eyes. He felt the earth reeling beneath his feet. Then Karl Engelbert stepped forth from his sullen little band.