XIV
One morning in early April Adone received a printed invitation to attend in five days' time at the Municipality of San Beda to hear of something which concerned him. It was brought by the little old postman who went the rounds of the district once a week on his donkey; the five days had already expired before the summons was delivered. Adone's ruddy cheeks grew pale as he glanced over it; he thrust it into the soil and drove his spade through it. The old man waiting, in hopes to get a draught of wine, looked at him in dismay.
"Is that a way to treat their Honours' commands?" he said aghast.
Adone did not answer or raise his head; he went on with his digging; he was turning and trenching the soil to plant potatoes; he flung spadefuls of earth over the buried summons.
"What's amiss with you, lad?" said the old fellow, who had known him from his infancy.
"Leave me," said Adone, with impatience. "Go to the house if you want to drink and to bait your beast."
"Thank ye," said the old man. "But you will go, won't you, Adone? It fares ill with those who do not go."
"Who told you to say that?"
"Nobody; but I have lived a' many years, and I have carried those printed papers a' many years, and I know that those who do not go when they are called rue it. Their Honours don't let you flout them."