"What do you mean? A mark? Do they mark us like sheep with a red cross on our backs?"
"Is it possible that you do not know," answered the stranger, "that the tailors in your village make hoods for you different from any which are made anywhere else in the world?"
From time immemorial, in fact, the hooded sukmanes of the inhabitants of Popielnia had been cut and made in a peculiar fashion, which fact Chwedko and Iermola had for the moment forgotten. They also, desiring to preserve the old custom, would never have bought or worn any hood which was not of the exact shape worn by their ancestors.
"And you,--where do you come from?" asked Chwedko of the young man.
"From a country which is beyond the seventh sea of the seventh river, and the seventh mountain," answered the merry joker.
"Ah, ah! Even in that distant country it seems, then, that they know about the people of Popielnia; that is very complimentary to us. But without joking, my brother, tell us from what land the Lord God has led you."
"From Mrozowica, neighbour."
Mrozowica was a large colony of freemen of the lower class, who paid taxes to the Government instead of doing service; it was just there that the potters lived to whom Iermola wished to apply, and the old man felt his heart beat as he heard the name pronounced.
"From Mrozowica?" he repeated eagerly. "And where are you going, if I may ask?"
"I am going over the world as far as my legs will carry me."