Those outside grew every minute more impatient; and at length Kobus and Kozlova, and more than one farm-labourer, began to murmur and talk openly against the men in counsel, saying that they would decide nothing of any good for the people; that they were men who cared only for themselves, and would readily come to terms with the manor, letting everybody else be ruined!
Kobus, along with the komorniki and the poorer people, became so excited that he advised them outright to pay no attention to what the elders would decide, but think of themselves and take some energetic step before their rights had been sold.
Matthew then appeared, and proposed that they should go round to the tavern, where they might advise together in freedom—not like dogs barking outside other people’s windows.
The idea pleased them, and all went together to the tavern.
The Jew had put out the lights, but they made him open the place again. He eyed in terror the crowd that poured in, though they were quiet enough, occupying every bench, table and corner of the big room, talking in groups, and waiting for someone to speak first to the meeting.
Plenty were willing; but they all held back, with looks of hesitation. And then Antek sprang forward in their midst, and furiously denounced the manor.
His words impressed them certainly, but they looked askance at the man, and eyed him with distrustful side-glances; some even turned their backs. The memory of the priest’s words in church, and of Antek’s wicked life, was too fresh in their minds.—But he cared nothing for that: he was possessed by a spirit of recklessness and a savage lust of fighting; and he wound up by crying at the top of his voice:
“Boys, do not give in, do not be cravens, do not surrender your rights! Today it is the forest they are wresting from you: fail to defend it, and tomorrow they will grab at your lands, at your homesteads, at all you have! Who will prevent them? Who will cry: ‘Hands off?’ ”
His words struck home. A low growl went through the room; the crowd surged violently to and fro, with wild eyes flashing fire. A hundred fists were lifted up, and a hundred throats thundered forth: “We will! We will!” till the tavern-walls shook to the din.
It was this that the leaders were waiting for. At once Matthew, Kobus and Kozlova rushed forward, shrieking, cursing, and ruffling up the spirits of the men so, that the place was presently resounding with a confused noise of war-cries, imprecations, fists smiting the tables, and the fierce boisterous uproar of an angry mob.
Everyone shouted his opinion, everyone had his own plan that all must follow.
The tumult increased, and threatened to degenerate into brawling; for the men were growing quarrelsome, and wreaked their resentment for the wrong done them on those nearest at hand. Nor could they agree on anything to be done; for no one there had authority enough to put himself at their head and avenge them.
Little by little, they broke up into groups, with the loudest talker amongst them laying down his opinion.
“Why, they have hewn down half the forest—oak-trees of such a size that five men could not clasp them!”
“All this the son of Klemba has seen!”
“And they are going to cut down the rest, without asking your leave!” Kozlova shrieked, pressing forward to the bar.
“The manor-folk have always oppressed us.”
“Why not? Let them drive you, if you are silly enough sheep to allow them.”
“We must not, we must not!—Let’s all go out together, drive off the woodmen, and take back our forest!”
“And slay the oppressor!”
“Yea, let him be slain!”
Fists rose into the air with defiant gestures, a deafening shout was raised, and the whole multitude breathed hate and revenge. When the noise had subsided, Matthew, standing at the bar, cried to his friends:
“We, village folk, are pressed together as fish caught in a net: the manor-lands, stretching out on all sides, squeeze the life out of us.—Would ye send your cows to grass? Ye cannot for the manor-lands.—Would ye give your horses to eat? No, the manor-lands are there!—Ye cannot throw a stone but it falls on the manor-lands … and ye are taken to the court—sentenced—fined—imprisoned!”
“True! true it is!” a chorus of voices assented. “If there is anywhere a good meadow, giving an aftermath, it belongs to the manor; the very best fields are the manor’s; and all the woods are theirs also.”
“And we—the people—have barren sands to till, dried dung to burn in our stoves … and are waiters on Providence!”
“Take their woods, take their lands away from them! We will not give up what is ours!”
Thus they cried out for a long time, rolling to and fro in a waving mass, cursing and threatening furiously. All this was tiring to the throat and heated them, so several went to refresh themselves at the bar; and others, remembering that they had gone without supper, called to the Jew for bread and a herring.
Now when they had eaten and drunk, their excitement lessened greatly, and they began to withdraw, without having decided on any course of action.
Matthew, along with Kobus and Antek (who had stood apart all the time, lost in certain very dark thoughts of his own), then went over to Klemba’s and, finding the man at home, arranged for something to be done on the morrow in concert with him: after which they retired.
It was dead of night, the lights were all out, and the village silent, with nothing to break the stillness but the rustling of the trees—of the frost-bedight trees, swaying, tossing and reeling, and striking each other, like
