“And may I ask the reason of this, sir?” said Mihal, taking off his hat respectfully.
“I will answer you immediately; but first follow me into my garden. There,” said he, pointing to a heap of bones which lay bleaching on the ground, “they are the bones of those unfortunate persons who have followed in my service; if now, therefore, you should so wish, you have my full permission to depart unhurt: if you will brave them, hear now the terms on which I must be served.”
“Sir,” answered Mihal, “you surprise me. I have travelled far, have no money, neither any more to eat; say, therefore, your terms; and if I can at all reconcile myself to them, I am prepared to stop here.”
“You must understand, then,” said the farmer, “that I hold my lands by a very unusual tenure. This is not my fault. However, you will find me an indulgent master to you, at all events; for, in fact, you may chance to be my master as much as I yours, or perhaps more; for these are the terms:—
“If I, at any time, first find fault with any one thing you may say or do, you are to be solemnly bound to take this (pointing to an immense and sharp axe) and forthwith, without a word, strike me till I shall be dead: but should you, at any one time, first find fault with one of my words or actions, I must be equally bound to do the very same dreadful thing to yourself. Blame me not, therefore, should you find fault with me, for it will be my destiny, nay, my duty, to do as I have described; and, on the contrary, if it happen otherwise, I must be ready to submit to my fate. Consider, and reply.”
“O, my master!” said Mihal More, “I have but the alternative of starvation; I am in a strangely wild country, without a friend. I must die, if I proceed, and nothing more dreadful than death can happen to me here. I therefore throw myself on your compassion, and agree to your terms.”
They then returned to the house, and Mihal felt somewhat refreshed, even by the smell alone of the savoury viands which the mistress was then preparing for the afternoon’s repast; the greyhound, too, cast occasionally wistful glances towards the operations going forward.
At length the dinner hour being all but arrived, the old lady in the chimney-corner then opened her lips for the first time since Mihal had come in, and expressed a wish to go out and take a walk; “for,” said she, “I have not been out for some weeks, ever since our last servant left us. What is your name, my man?” So he told her. “Come out, then,” said she, “Mihal, and assist me about the garden, for I am completely cramped.”
Mihal muttered a few words about dinner, hunger, and so on, but was interrupted by the farmer, who said, “Mihal, you must attend my mother; she has sometimes strange fancies. Besides, remember our agreement. Do you find fault with me?”
“O, by no means, sir,” said Mihal, frightened; “I must do my business, I suppose.”