comes all this news? How far off are the French? Who is
their leader? Have they already begun war with Moscow? Where and on what
pretext? Which way are they going to move? and with what numbers are they
comings? Have they a large force of infantry and cavalry? Whoever knows,
let him tell!"

The crowd was silent, each man gazing at his neighbour.

"I should be glad," said the Prussian, "to wait for the Bernardine Robak,
for all the tidings come from him. Meanwhile we should send trusty spies
across the border and quietly arm all the country round; but meanwhile we
should conduct the whole matter with caution, in order not to betray our
intentions to the Muscovites."

"Hah! Wait, prate, debate?" interrupted another Maciej, christened
Sprinkler,129 from a great club that he called his _sprinkling-brush_; he
had it with him to-day. He stood behind it, rested both hands on the knob,
and leaned his chin on his hands, crying: "Delay, wait, debate! Hem, hum,
haw, and then run away! I have never been in Prussia; Koenigsberg sense is
good for Prussia, but I have my plain gentleman's sense. This much I know:
whoever wants to fight, let him seize his sprinkling-brush; whoever
prefers to die, let him call the priest--that's all! I want to live and
fight! Of what use is the Bernardine? Are we schoolboys? What do I care
for that Robak? Now we will all be Robaks, that is, worms, and proceed to
gnaw at the Muscovites! Hem, haw! spies! to explore! Do you know what that
means? Why, that you are impotent old beggars! Hey, brothers! It is a
setter's work to follow a trail, a Bernardine's to gather alms, but my
work is--to sprinkle, sprinkle, sprinkle, and that's all!"

Here he patted his club; after him the whole crowd of gentry yelled,
"Sprinkle, sprinkle!"

The side of Sprinkler was supported by Bartek, called Razor from his thin
sabre; and likewise by Maciej, known as Bucket, from a blunderbuss that he
carried, with a muzzle so broad that from it as from a pail a thousand
bullets poured in a stream. Both cried, "Long live Sprinkler and his
brush." The Prussian tried to speak, but he was drowned by uproar and
laughter. "Away, away with the Prussian cowards," they shouted; "let
cowards go and hide in Bernardine cowls!"

Then once more old Maciej slowly raised his head, and the tumult began
somewhat to subside.

"Do not scoff at Robak," he said; "I know him; he is a clever priest. That
little worm130 has gnawed a larger nut than you