There was little further talk after that; even Matthew spoke but few words, only keeping his eye upon Antek; and they were about to go home, when the blacksmith appeared. He had but just come back from the Manor, he said, and fell a-cursing both village and villagers. “And what ails you now?” asked Hanka, peeping out of the window. “What, indeed?—I shame to tell it: our peasants here are all louts and boobies! They don’t know their own mind.—The Squire behaved to them as to men and landholders; and they, they acted like mere gooseherds. The agreement had been made: naught was required but to sign it. Then one of them scratches me his head and grunts: ‘Shall I ... or shall I not?’ Another would fain still consult his goodwife anew; a third sets to whining for a bit of meadow adjacent to his land, that he wants given him.—What can be done with such fellows?—The Squire is raging—will not hear of the agreement any more, nor let any of the cattle from Lipka graze on his lands, and will make anyone smart that sends them there.” This unforeseen calamity dismayed them all, and they had no words too strong for the guilty. Matthew said with sorrow: “All this comes from the people’s having no leader. We are like stray sheep!” “Has not Michael pointed this out to them clearly enough?” “Oh, Michael! He goes where gain is to be had, and holds with the Manor: none therefore will trust him. They listen; but as to following what he says...!” Here the smith swore he cared only for the public good, even to giving time and trouble gratis, that the agreement might be made! “And if ye should swear that in church,” Matthew growled, “they still would not believe you.” “Let someone else, then, try,” he retorted; “we shall see how he succeeds.” “Yes, someone else ought certainly to try.” “And who? The priest? Or the miller perhaps?” several men asked ironically. “Who?—Why, Antek Boryna! If he cannot bring folk to their senses, we must give them up as a bad job.” “I?—I?” Antek faltered, in confusion. “Will anyone hearken to me?” “All will! You are an able man, and the foremost amongst us.” “True it is!—Aye, aye!—You and none other!—We’ll follow you!” were the cries that arose—not much to the smith’s taste, seemingly. He twisted about, scratched his moustache, and grinned maliciously when Antek said: “Well, well, they say: ‘Pot-making is for others than saints.’—I can but try; and we’ll talk the matter over another time.” Several, as they went away, took him aside, urging him to accept, and promising their support. Klemba said: “We must have someone to lead us, who has wits and a strong hand, and honesty into the bargain.” “And,” Matthew added, laughing, “who can command, and use a cudgel if needful.” Antek now remained alone with the smith; Roch had gone aside to pray earnestly in the porch.