The blacksmith had dressed up most grandly, having on a black capote, and trousers over which the boots were drawn. He slipped about with great activity, was everywhere, drank with everybody, walked to and fro and talked; and his red head and freckled face were never long on the same spot. The young people danced several times, but not long, nor with much animation. They were looking forward to the supper. The old men, on their side, were deep in debate, the Voyt raising his voice higher and higher, striking the table with his fist, and laying down the law: “I, the Voyt, have said it: you may take it from me. I, a man in office, have received a paper commanding me to call a meeting, and order half a kopek per acre to be voted by every landowner for educational purposes.” “You, Peter, may vote even five kopeks an acre if you like: we won’t!” “No, that we will not!” one of the men roared. “But I am making you a statement as an official!” “We do not care for such schools as those,” Boryna remarked; and the others assented in chorus.[21] ----- Footnote 21: The reader should bear in mind that this book was published before the War, when only schools where Russian was taught were permitted by the government, and Polish was not learned except in secret.—_Translator’s Note._ “In Vola,” said one, “there is a school which my children attended for three winters running. What is the result? They cannot even read in a prayer-book.—Devil take such teaching!” “Let the mothers teach prayers at home; prayers have naught to do with studies. I, the Voyt, tell you this!” “Then what are schools for?” grumbled the man from Vola, rising. “I will tell you, I the Voyt: but listen....” Here he was interrupted by Simon, who cried aloud to them all that the trees of the clearing sold to the Jews had already been branded by them, and that they would have them cut down as soon as the sledges could run. “Brand the trees they may: to fell them will be harder!” Boryna put in. “We shall complain to the commissary.” “Who is hand in glove with the Squire?—No: let us go in a body and drive the woodmen off.” “They shall not hew down one single sapling!” “Matthias, drink to me! Now is no time for holding councils. A tipsy man will even defy God!” So cried the miller, filling Boryna’s glass. The talk was as little to his taste as the threats were; for he had an agreement drawn up with the Jews, and the trees were to go to his sawmill. They drank and left their places; the tables were now to be laid for supper, and all the needful things were being brought in. The farmers, however, still stuck to their forest grievance, which was a great wrong done to them. They formed a group, and with lowered voices (so that the miller might not overhear them) determined to thresh the matter out at Boryna’s.