Just as they were leaving, a brichka drove up containing the two
Hamers, whose faces were now quite familiar to Slimak. The colonists
rushed to the vehicle with shouts and explanations, gesticulating
wildly, pointing hither and thither, and talking in turns, for even in
their excitement they seemed to preserve system and order.
The Hamers remained perfectly calm, listening patiently and
attentively, until the others were tired of shouting. When they had
finished, the younger man answered them at some length, and at last
they shook hands and the colonists took up their sacks of potatoes and
departed cheerfully.
'How are you, gospodarz?' called the elder man to Slimak. 'Shall we
come to terms yet?'
'What's the use of talking, father?' said the other; 'he will come to
us of his own accord!'
'Never!' cried Slimak, and added under his breath: 'They are dead set
on me--the vermin! Queer folk!' he observed to his wife, looking after
the departing brichka, 'when our people are quarrelling, they don't
stop to listen, but these seem to understand each other all the same
and to smooth things over.'
'What are you always cracking up the Swabians for, you old silly?'
returned his wife. 'You don't seem to remember that they want to take
your land away from you.... I can't make you out!'
'What can they do to me? I won't let them have it, and they can't rob
me.'
'Who knows? They are many, and you are only one.'
'That's God's will! I can see they have more sense than I have, but
when it comes to holding on, there I can match them! Look at all the
woodpeckers on that little tree; that tree is like us peasants. The
squire sits and hammers, the parish sits and hammers, the Jews and the
Germans sit and hammer, yet in the end they all fly away and the tree
is still the tree.'
The evening brought a visit from old Sobieska, who stumbled in with her
demand of a 'thimbleful of whisky'.
'I nearly gave up the ghost,' she cried, 'I've run so fast to tell you
the news.'
She was rewarded with a thimble which a giant could well have worn on
his finger.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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