I haven't taken twenty-eight roubles the whole year. If you were my own son I wouldn't let you off; neither of the boys have ever cost me as much.'
His anger overcame him, he beat himself with his clenched fists.
'Find the horses,' he cried, 'or I will give you in charge, go where you like, look where you like, but don't show your face here without them or one of us will die! I loathe you. Take that bastard or we will let it starve, and be off!'
'I will find the horses,' said Maciek, and drew his old sheepskin round him with trembling hands; 'perhaps God will help me.'
'The devil will help you, you low scoundrel,' said Slimak, and turned away.
'And leave your box,' added Jendrek.
'He has paid us out for our kindness,' whimpered Slimakowa, wiping her eyes. They went into the house.
Not one of them had a kind glance to spare for Maciek, although he was leaving them forever.
Slowly and painfully he wrapped the child up in an old bit of a shirt and a shawl, fastened his belt round himself and looked for a stick.
His head was aching as if he were going through a severe illness; he was unable to reason out the situation. He felt no resentment towards Slimak for having beaten him and driven him away; the gospodarz was in the right, of course; neither was he afraid of having no roof over his head; people like him never had any roof of their own; he was not thinking of the future. Another thought was torturing him…the horses. For Slimak the horses were part of his working machinery, for Maciek they were friends and brothers. Who but they in the whole world had longed for him, had greeted him heartily when he returned, or looked after him when he went out? No one but Wojtek and Kasztan. For years they had shared hardships together. Now they were gone, perhaps led away into misery, through his, Maciek's, fault.