"Radonic may have many faults, nay, he has many; are we not all of us full of blemishes? Still, the poor that will be fed for many days from the crumbs of our feast will surely not say that he is a miser. Still—withal he is lavish—one thing he is fully determined not to do, that is to pay more for the blood he has spilt than it is really worth.
"It is true that the heirs of the dead man are filling the whole town with their laments; but do you think that those who mourn so loudly would gladly welcome their brother back, nay, I ask you how many hands would be stretched out to greet Vranic if the grave were to yawn and give up the dead man. Who, within his innermost heart, is not really glad to have got rid of a man who carried an evil influence with him whithersoever he went?
"But speaking the truth in this case is almost like trying to set you against the exaggerated claims of the late man's brothers; whilst you all know quite well that I only wish you to act according to your better judgment, and whatever your decision be, we shall abide by it. You are husbands, you are Slavs; the honour of your homes, of your children, of your wives is dear to you; therefore, I drink to your honour with Radonic's wine."
As the bucara could not go round fast enough, so glasses were filled, and toasts were drunk. After that, Bellacic left the room, so that the jury might discuss the matter under no restraint. Although twenty of the men were in favour of Radonic, still four thought that the arguments used in his favour had been so brilliant that Bellacic had rather charmed than convinced them. They were, however, overruled by the many, and the bumpers they swallowed in the heat of the argument ended by convincing them, too.
"Gentlemen," said Bellacic, coming back, "I shall not ask you now if Vranic's life was worth a herd or a single cow, a flock or a single sheep, or even a goat, for here is Teodoroff, the guzlar, who is going to enliven us with the glorious battle of Kossovo, and the great deeds of our immortal Kraglievic."
The bard came in, and he was listened to with rapt attention during the half-hour that his poem lasted. No one spoke, or drank, or even moved; all remained as if spell-bound; their eyes seemed to seek for the words as they flowed from the poet's lips. At last the guzlar stopped, and after a few moments of silence, shouts of applause broke forth. Just then Radonic came into the room, and the twenty-four men all shook hands with him heartily, and, excited as the audience was with the daring deeds of Marko Kraglievic, Bellacic made him relate some of his encounters with the Turks, and show the holes in his coat through which the bullets had passed.
"And now, Teodoroff," said Radonic, finishing the story of his exploits, "give us something lively; I think we've had enough of bloodshed for the whole evening."
"Yes," added Bellacic; "but let us first finish the business for which we have been brought together, and then we can devote the remainder of our time to pleasure."
"Yes," retorted one of the twenty-four arbitrators, "it's time the matter was settled."
"Well, then," quoth Markovic, "what is the price of the jettatore's life?"