But Buchmann interrupted him: “Let fools agree; discussions do not harm the common weal. I beg you to be silent.” (“We are listening.”) “The case gains thereby; the Warden is considering it from a new point of view.”
“Not at all,” shouted the Warden, “I follow the old fashion. Of great things great men should think; for them there is an Emperor, and there will be a King, a Senate, and Deputies. Such things, my boy, are done in Cracow or in Warsaw, not here among us, in the [pg 186] hamlet of Dobrzyn. Acts of confederation are not written on a chimney with chalk, nor on a river barge, but on parchment; it is not for us to write such acts. Poland has the secretaries of the Kingdom and of Lithuania; such was the ancient custom: my business is to whittle with my penknife.”
“To sprinkle with my brush,” added Sprinkler.
“And to bore with my awl,” cried Bartek the Awl, drawing his sword.
“I summon you all to witness,” concluded the Warden; “did not Robak tell you, that before you receive Napoleon into your house you should sweep out the dirt? You all heard it, but do you understand? Who is the dirt of the district? Who traitorously killed the best of Poles; who robbed and plundered him? Who? Must I tell you?”
“Why, it is Soplica,” interrupted Bucket; “and now he even wants to snatch the remnants from the hands of the heir; he is a scoundrel.”
“O, he is a tyrant!” squealed Razor.
“Then sprinkle him!” added Baptist.
“If he is a traitor,” said Buchmann, “to the gallows with him!”
“Hurrah!” they all cried, “down with Soplica!”