One morning, early in April, Slimak went out before sunrise as usual to say his prayers in the open. The east was flushed with pink, the stars were paling, only the morning star shone like a jewel, and was welcomed from below by the awakening birds. The peasant's lips moved in prayer, while he fixed his eyes on the white mist which covered the ground like snow. Then it was that he heard a distant sound from beyond the hills, a rumble of carts and the voices of many people. He quickly walked up the lonely pine hill and perceived a long procession of carts covered with awnings, filled with human beings and their domestic and agricultural implements. Men in navy-blue coats and straw hats were walking beside them, cows were tied behind, and small herds of pigs were scrambling in and out of the procession. A little cart, scarcely larger than a child's, brought up the rear; it was drawn by a dog and a woman, and conveyed a man whose feet were dangling down in front. 'The Swabians are coming!' flashed through Slimak's mind, but he put the thought away from him. 'Maybe they are gipsies,' he argued. But no--they were not dressed like gipsies, and woodcutters don't take cattle about with them--then who were they? He shrank from the thought that the colonists were actually coming. 'Maybe it's they, maybe not...' he whispered. For a moment a hill concealed them from his view, and he hoped that the vision had dissolved into the light of day. But there they were again, and each step of their lean horses brought them nearer. The sun was gilding the hill which they were ascending, and the larks were singing brightly to welcome them. Across the valley the church bell was ringing. Was it calling to prayers as usual, or did it warn the people of the invasion of a foreign power? Slimak looked towards the village. The cottage-doors were closed, no one was astir, and even if he had shouted aloud, 'Look, gospodarze, the Germans are here!' no one would have been alarmed. The string of noisy people now began to file past Slimak's cottage. The tired horses were walking slowly, the cows could scarcely lift their feet, the pigs squeaked and stumbled. But the people were happy, laughing and shouting from cart to cart. They turned round by the bridge on to the open ground. The small cart in the rear had now reached Slimak's gate; the big dog fell down panting, the man raised himself to a sitting position and the girl took the strap from her shoulder and wiped her perspiring forehead. Slimak was seized with pity for them; he came down from the hill and approached the travellers. 'Where do you all come from? Who are you?' he asked. 'We are colonists from beyond the Vistula,' the girl answered. 'Our people have bought land here, and we have come with them.' 'But have not you bought land also?' The woman shrugged her shoulders. 'Is it the custom with you for the women to drag the men about?'