Nevertheless, Mateus attended him deferentially into the yard.
In the ballroom polkas, valses, and mazurkas followed each other endlessly until the pale dawn appeared, and the cottage fires were lit.
Slimak rose with the winter sun, and whispering a prayer, walked out of the gate. He looked at the sky, then towards the manor-house, wondering how long the merrymaking was going to last.
The sky was blue, the first sun rays were bathing the snow in rose colour, and the clouds in purple. Slimak drew a deep breath, and felt that it was better to be out in the fresh air than indoors, dancing.
'Making themselves tired without need,' he thought, 'when they might be sleeping to their hearts' content!' Then he resumed his prayer. His attention was attracted by voices, and he saw two men in navy blue overcoats. When they caught sight of him, one asked at once:
'That is your hill, gospodarz, isn't it?'
Slimak looked at them in surprise.
'Why do you keep on asking me about my property? I told you last summer that the hill was mine.'
'Then sell it to us,' said the man with the beard.
'Wait, Fritz,' interrupted the older man.