"I expected just such an answer," said Lapushneanu with irritation, "but we will see first what it is they ask." At that moment the esquire stepped through the door into the courtyard, and making a sign, cried: "Good people! His Highness sends to inquire what it is you want and ask, and wherefore you are come with so much noise?" The crowd stood open-mouthed. They had not expected such a question. They had come without knowing why, or what they wanted. They collected quietly into little groups and asked one another what it was they did want. At last they began to shout: "Remit the taxes!" "Cease to harass us!" "Do not kill us!" "Do not rob us!" "We remain poor!" "We have no money!" "Motzoc has taken our all!" "Motzoc! Motzoc!" "He fleeces us and ruins us!" "He advises the Voda!" "Let him die!" "To death with Motzoc!" "We want the head of Motzoc!" The last words found an echo in every heart, and were like an electric spark. All the voices rang together as one voice, and this voice cried: "We ask for Motzoc's head!" "What do they ask for?" asked Lapushneanu, as the esquire entered. "The head of Vornic Motzoc," replied the esquire. "How? What?" cried Motzoc, jumping like a man who has trodden on a serpent. "You did not hear aright, fool! You try to jest, but this is no time for jesting. What words are these! What would they do with my head? I tell you, you are deaf, you did not hear well." "But very well," said Alexandru Voda, "just listen. Their cries are audible here." In fact, as the soldiers no longer resisted them, the people had begun to clamber up the walls whence they shouted at the top of their voices: "Give us Motzoc!" "We want Motzoc's head!" "Oh, miserable sinner that I am!" cried the wretched man, "most Holy Mother of God, do not let me be destroyed. What have I done to these men? Holy Virgin save me from this danger, and I swear to build a church to pray for the rest of my days, I will enshrine with silver the miracle-working Icon from the Neamtzu Monastery. But gracious Prince, do not listen to these common people, to these churls. Command that the guns decimate them. Let them all die! I am a great boyar, they are only churls!" "Churls, but many of them," replied Lapushneanu coldly: "would it not be a sin to murder many men for the sake of one? Only reflect. Go and sacrifice yourself for the good of the realm, as you yourself said when you told me that the country neither wanted me nor loved me. Rejoice that the people repay you for the service you rendered me, betraying to me the army of Anton Sechele, then destroying me, and taking Tomsha's side." "Oh, unfortunate man that I am!" cried Motzoc, tearing his beard, for he realized from the tyrant's words that there was no escape for him. "At least let me go and put my house in order! Have pity upon my wife and children! Give me time to confess!" And he cried and screamed and groaned.