"You are right, baron," said his neighbor, nodding and smiling. "The people are idle and wasteful; and if we were to listen to their complaints, we would soon be as poor as they."
"And what if a few thousand perish here and there?" interposed another.
"They never would be missed, for they multiply like potatoes."
"You say, baron," resumed the host, "that you paid no attention to the complaints of your peasantry?"
"I did like Ulysses, gentlemen; I stopped my ears with wax, that my heart might not grow weak."
"A melodious siren song, to be sure," laughed the company; "a dirge of bread! bread! bread!"
"Ah, you know the song, I perceive," said the Baron von Josephi, joining in the laugh.
"Yes; and we do as you have done, baron. We stop our ears."
"The consequence is," continued Josephi, "that my granaries are full to overflowing. I was on my way to Prague to dispose of it, but the want which I have seen on your estates, freiherr, has touched my heart. Nowhere have I beheld any thing to equal it. Hundreds of starving peasants are on the high-road, not a mile off."
"Did you honor us with your presence to tell me this?" asked the host, with lowering brow. "If so, you might have spared your trouble, for I know it."
"Oh no; I came to you with the best intentions. I have no pity for the peasant, but some for yourself. The health of his workmen is the nobleman's wealth. Now my own people are almost all dead, and as I grieve to see your lands wasted, I offer you my corn."