Every day, herdsmen and wayfarers came to tell how the lands of Podlesie were being measured, and landmarks laid down, and wells dug. Of this, too, so many as wandered out of curiosity in the direction of Vola had ocular demonstration. But what was the true situation of affairs? That as yet they had not ascertained. They urged the smith to find out, for he had made friends with the Germans and shod their horses; but he fought shy, and either learned or told them nothing. It was Gregory who at last sought information and got at the truth. The fact was that the Squire owed a certain German fifteen thousand roubles, which he could not pay. The latter proposed taking Podlesie for the debt, and paying the difference in ready money. The Squire seemed inclined to agree to this, but secretly looked out for some other purchaser, the German offering only sixty roubles an acre. “He will have to agree,” Gregory declared. “The Manor is swarming with Jews, all crying out for their money. And the forester told me the Manor cows had been attached for the taxes. How, then, can he pay them? Everything is sold! And he may not cut down the forest, so long as his lawsuit with us is not ended.—No, he must sell Podlesie at any price.” “Why, such land is worth a hundred roubles an acre!” “Then buy it at that price, and he will be only too glad to sell!” “Alas, money is short! Whence is it to come?” “So then, the Germans must get all, and we nothing!” They talked on, with sad forebodings. How hard it was that such land should be lost to them—so near, so fruitful, so suitable for their sons and sons-in-law! They could have founded another village there, with fertile meadows and water in abundance.... But there, all was of no avail! The Germans were there, they would get the upper hand and crush the life out of the poor peasants. “And whither shall all these go?” the old men murmured sadly, looking on while their children played about the roads in the evening—so numerous that the huts could scarce contain them. “But how is it possible to purchase any land, since we get barely enough to live on out of ours?” They cudgelled their brains not a little; they even went to the priest for advice. But he could give them none. “Out of an empty pot, nothing is ever got!” “Ah! ‘money makes the mare go’; but, ‘wherever the poor man goes, the wind against him blows!’” Useless complaints, useless lamentations!