"Our prince, Excellency! He is not our prince. His forefathers seized this land; that is all."
"No one," grumbled the man. "We know it; that is all."
"But you were his father's serfs, before the freedom. Let me see your tongue. Yes; you have been drinking--all the winter. Ah! is not that so, little father? Your parents were serfs before the freedom."
"Freedom!" growled the man. "A pretty freedom! We were better off before."
"Yes; but the world interfered with serfdom, because it got its necessary touch of sentiment. There is no sentiment in starvation."
The man did not understand. He grunted acquiescence nevertheless. The true son of the people is always ready to grunt acquiescence to all that sounds like abuse.
"And what is this prince like? Have you seen him?" went on Paul.
"No; I have not seen him. If I saw him I would kick his head to pieces."
"Ah, just open your mouth a little wider. Yes; you have a nasty throat there. You have had diphtheria. So you would kick his head to pieces. Why?"
"He is a tchinovnik--a government spy. He lives on the taxes. But it will not be for long. There is a time coming--"
"Ah! What sort of a time? Now, you must take this to the starosta. He will give you a bottle. It is not to drink. It is to wash your throat with. Remember that, and do not give it to your wife by way of a tonic as you did last time. So there are changes coming, are there?"
"There is a change coming for the prince--for all the princes," replied the man in the usual taproom jargon. "For the Emperor too. The poor man has had enough of it. God made the world for the poor man as well as for the rich. Riches should be equally divided. They are going to be. The country is going to be governed by a Mir. There will be no taxes. The Mir makes no taxes. It is the tchinovniks who make the taxes and live on them."
"Ah, you are very eloquent, little father. If you talk like this in the kabak no wonder you have a bad throat. There, I can do no more for you. You must wash more and drink less. You might try a little work perhaps; it stimulates the appetite. And with a throat like that I should not talk so much if I were you. Next!"
The next comer was afflicted with a wound that would not heal--a common trouble in cold countries.