Meanwhile Zych assisted Macko to the bench and ordered some wine for him. Jagienka went to get it. The abbot turned to Zbyszko and began to talk thus: "Enough of joking! I compared you to a girl, not to humiliate you, but to praise your beauty, of which many girls would be proud. But I know that you are a man! I have heard about your deeds at Wilno, about the Fryzes, and about Krakow. Zych has told me all about it, understand!" Here he began to look intently into Zbyszko's eyes, and after a while he said: "If you have promised three peacocks' tufts, then search for them! It is praiseworthy and pleasing to God to persecute the foes of our nation. But, if you have promised something else, I will release you from the vow." "Hej!" said Zbyszko; "when a man promises something in his soul to the Lord Jesus, who has the power to release him?" Macko looked with fear at the abbot; but evidently he was in an excellent humor, because instead of becoming angry, he threatened Zbyszko with his finger and said: "How clever you are! But you must be careful that you do not meet the same fate that the German, Beyhard, did." "What happened to him?" asked Zych. "They burned him on a pile." "What for?" "Because he used to say that a layman could understand God's secrets as well as the clergy." "They punished him severely!" "But righteously!" shouted the abbot, "because he had blasphemed against the Holy Ghost. What do you think? Is a layman able to interpret any of God's secrets?" "He cannot by any means!" exclaimed the wandering seminarists, together. "Keep quiet, you _shpilmen_!" said the abbot; "you are not ecclesiastics, although your heads are shaved." "We are not '_shpilmen_,' but courtiers of Your Grace," answered one of them, looking toward a large bucket from which the smell of hops and malt was filling the air. "Look! He is talking from a barrel!" exclaimed the abbot. "Hej, you shaggy one! Why do you look at the bucket? You will not find any Latin at the bottom of that." "I am not looking for Latin, but for beer; but I cannot find any." The abbot turned toward Zbyszko, who was looking with astonishment at such courtiers as these, and said: "They are _clerici scholares_;[83] but every one of them prefers to throw his books aside, and taking his lute, wander through the world. I shelter and nourish them; what else can I do? They are good for nothing, but they know how to sing and they are familiar with God's service; therefore I have some benefit out of them in my church, and in case of need, they will defend me, because some of them are fierce fellows! This pilgrim says that he was in the Holy Land; but I have asked him in vain about some of the seas and countries; he does not know even the name of the Greek emperor nor in what city he lives." "I did know," said the pilgrim, in a hoarse voice; "but the fever I caught at the Danube, shook everything out of me."