One morning in early April Adone received a printed invitation to
attend in five days' time at the Municipality of San Beda to hear of
something which concerned him. It was brought by the little old
postman who went the rounds of the district once a week on his
donkey; the five days had already expired before the summons was
delivered. Adone's ruddy cheeks grew pale as he glanced over it; he
thrust it into the soil and drove his spade through it. The old man
waiting, in hopes to get a draught of wine, looked at him in dismay.
"Is that a way to treat their Honours' commands?" he said aghast.
Adone did not answer or raise his head; he went on with his digging;
he was turning and trenching the soil to plant potatoes; he flung
spadefuls of earth over the buried summons.
"What's amiss with you, lad?" said the old fellow, who had known him
from his infancy.
"Leave me," said Adone, with impatience. "Go to the house if you want
to drink and to bait your beast."
"Thank ye," said the old man. "But you will go, won't you, Adone? It
fares ill with those who do not go."
"Who told you to say that?"
"Nobody; but I have lived a' many years, and I have carried those
printed papers a' many years, and I know that those who do not go
when they are called rue it. Their Honours don't let you flout them."
"Their Honours be damned!" said Adone. "Go to the house."
The little old man, sorely frightened, dropped his head, and pulling
his donkey by its bridle went away along the grass path under the
vines.
Adone went on delving, but his strong hands shook with rage and
emotion as they grasped the handle of the spade. He knew as well as
if he had been told by a hundred people that he was called to treat
of the sale of the Terra Vergine. He forced himself to go on with his
forenoon's labour, but the dear familiar earth swam and spun before
his sight.
"What?" he muttered to it, "I who love you am not your owner? I who
was born on you am not your lawful heir? I who have laboured on you
ever since I was old enough to use a tool at all am now in my manhood
to give you up to strangers? I will make you run red with blood
first!"
It wanted then two hours of noon. When twelve strokes sounded from
across the river, tolled slowly by the old bronze bell of the church
tower, he went for the noonday meal and rest to the house.