And as the days passed by, the village dissensions increased. Once, about that time, there came round to every hut the news that there were Germans stopping at the tavern. As someone guessed, they were no doubt bound for Podlesie. The people were taken with a fit of uneasy curiosity. The news flew from orchard to orchard, it was discussed over the fences, and many a one hurried to the tavern to see. It was true. Five large tilted wagons, each painted yellow and blue, and fitted with iron axle-trees, stood outside the inn. They were laden with articles of furniture, and women were sitting inside. In the tavern bar, ten Germans were drinking. They were tall, stout, bearded fellows, clad in dark-blue capotes, with silver chains that dangled from their bulging waists, and faces that literally shone with good feeding. The peasants stood grouped together at a distance from them, calling for vodka, looking on and listening to their talk, but unable to make anything out. Matthew, who could speak Yiddish, tried speech with them by that means, and so fluently that the tavern-keeper looked at him in amazement. The Germans eyed him, but answered nothing. Gregory, the Voyt’s brother, then said a few German words to them: at which, grunting among themselves as swine do over a trough, they turned their backs on the peasants. Matthew took fire at this. “Let’s punch their snouts for them!” he cried. “Aye; or tickle their sides with a cudgel to make them speak.” And Adam Klemba, a fiery young fellow, exclaimed: “I’ll hit this nearest one in the stomach; and if he strikes back, ye all come in for fair play.” But they restrained him; and the Germans, probably guessing some harm was intended them, took with them a barrel of beer, and left the place. “Hey, ye Long Trousers, do not hurry so: they might fall down by the way!” And as they drove off, the peasants shouted after them: “Breed of swine!” No sooner had they left than the Jew informed the peasants that the Germans had almost completed the purchase of Podlesie: fifteen families were to settle on that farm. “And then we shall be hemmed in and squeezed to death on our poor strips of land, while they stretch and multiply over those broad acres!” “Then let us bid higher and keep them out!” said Staho Ploshka to Gregory, who had spoken last. “Use your wits, since ye think yourself clever!” “Blood of a dog!” Matthew shouted, thumping the bar with his fist; “’tis a ruinous business, this! If they settle down in Podlesie, ’twill be a hard thing for us to keep our homesteads in Lipka.” Of this he was sure: he had been about the world, and knew what Germans were. His hearers were at first incredulous. All the same, it troubled them, and they fell a-thinking: how could evil come to them in Lipka from neighbours in Podlesie?