Bruno made a gesture of impatience, but followed his brother. The latter looked the rooster over carefully, thought about it, debated with himself and asked a few questions. The unfortunate fellow was in doubt. Bruno was nervous and looked at him angrily.
“Why, don’t you see that wide scale which he has there near the spur? Do you see those feet? What more do you want? Look at those legs. Stretch out his wings. And that broken scale on top of that wide one, and that double one?”
Tarsilo did not hear him, he kept on examining the cock. The rattle of silver coins reached his ears.
“Let us see the bulik now,” said he, in a choking voice.
Bruno stamped the ground with his feet, grated his teeth, but obeyed his brother.
They approached the other group. There they were arming the cock, they were selecting gaffs for him, and the expert, in fitting them to the rooster’s legs, was preparing a piece of red silk. He waxed it and rubbed it over his knee a number of times.
Tarsilo gazed at the bird with a sombre air. It seemed that he was not looking at the cock, but at something in the future. He passed his hand over his forehead.
“Are you ready?” he asked his brother, his voice scarcely perceptible.
“I? Long ago. Without having to see them.”
“It is our poor sister——”