"Good for you, Bartek," said Sprinkler, "good for you; sprinkle, sprinkle!"
"But in the name of the most dear Jesus, we must first know with whom the war is and about what; we must proclaim that to the world," shouted the Prussian, "for what is going to make the people follow us? Where they are to go, and when, and how, we do not know ourselves. Brother gentlemen, we need discretion! My friends, we need order and method! If you wish war, let us make a confederacy,131 and discuss where to form it and under whose leadership. That was the way in Great Poland—we saw the retreat of the Germans, and what did we do? We consulted secretly together; we armed both the gentry and a company of peasants; and, when we were ready, we waited Dombrowski's orders; at last, to horse! We rose as one man!"
"I beg the floor," called out the manager of Kleck, a spruce young man, dressed in German costume. His name was Buchmann, but he was a Pole, born in Poland; it was not quite certain that he was of gentle birth, but of that they asked no questions, and everybody respected Buchmann, because he was in service with a great magnate, was a good patriot, and full of learning. From foreign books he had learned the art of farming, and conducted well the administration of his estate; on politics he had also formed wise opinions; he knew how to write beautifully and how to express himself with elegance: therefore all became silent when he began to discourse.
"I beg the floor," he repeated; he twice cleared his throat, bowed, and with tuneful lips thus proceeded:—
"My predecessors in their eloquent speeches have touched on all the principal and decisive points, and
