s stole into the stable; and over the fresh,
dark-green, fragrant hay of which the young men had made them a bed there
streamed twinkling, golden bands from the openings of the black thatch,
like ribbons from a braid of hair; and the sun teased the faces of the
sleepers with its morning beams, like a village girl awakening her
sweetheart with an ear of wheat. Already the sparrows had begun to hop and
twitter beneath the thatch, already the gander had cackled thrice, and
after it, as an echo, the ducks and turkeys resounded in chorus, and one
could hear the bellowing of the kine on their way to the fields.

The young men had arisen; Thaddeus still lay dozing, for he had gone to
sleep last of all. From the supper of the day before he had come back so
disquieted that at cockcrow he had not yet closed his eyes, and on his
couch he tossed about so violently that he sank into the hay as into
water; at last he fell sound asleep. Finally a cool breeze blew in his
eyes, when the creaking doors of the stable were opened with a crash; and
the Bernardine, Father Robak, came in with his belt of knotted cord,
calling out, "Surge, puer!" and plying jocosely over his shoulders his
knotted belt.

Already in the yard could be heard the cries of the hunters; horses were
being led forth, waggons were coming up; hardly could the yard contain
such a throng. The horns sounded, they opened the kennels. The pack of
hounds rushing out whined joyfully; seeing the chargers of the huntsmen
and the leashes of their keepers, the dogs as if mad scampered about the
enclosure, then ran and put their necks in the collars. All this foreboded
a very fine hunt; at last the Chamberlain gave the order to proceed.

The hunters started slowly, one after another, but beyond the gate they
spread out in a long line; in the middle of it rode side by side the
Assessor and the Notary, and though they occasionally cast a malicious
glance at each other, they conversed in friendly fashion, like men of
honour, who were on their way to settle a mortal quarrel; no one from
their words could have remarked their mutual hatred: the Notary led
Bobtail, the Assessor Falcon. The ladies in carriages brought up the rear;
the young men, galloping alongside near the wheels, talked with the
ladies.

Father Robak walked with slow steps about the yard, finishing his morning
prayers, but he glanced at Thaddeus, frowned, smiled, and finally motioned
to him with his finger. When Thadde