Jerman. (Having stood in place for some time, surprised, begins to chant.) What was the word you uttered? What did you invent to harm me harshly? - SERFS! BORN AS SERFS; GROWN AS SERFS, MADE TO SERVE! MANY TIMES A NEW OVERLORD COMES, YET THE WHIP REMAINS, FOR YOUR BACK IS UNEVEN, USED TO, AND WISHING FOR, WHIPPINGS!
A voice: (From the window.) Are you true men; will you listen to this?
Voices. (Order is lost. Everyone is screaming. Complete disarray.) Bust! - You will to insult us? - Leave for the road! - Blast, hit!
Jerman. (Steps onto the chair with one leg, onto the table with the other.) SERFS! "CHRIST" WOULD NOT APPROACH YOU, HANDING A WORD, BUT A WHIP! The madman, who made me unlock this mind of yours, cursed through and through . . .
Voices. We've had enough! Who's a serf here? (Feminine voices.) Are you men or are you cowards? Shouldn't we bruise ‘em?
(Males have stood up by then; glasses tremble; a desk collapses.)
Delavec. Stones! Shut the windows!
Kalander. Sir, stop it!
Voices. A Serf – who? Hit!
Jerman. SERFS, CONDEMNED TO SERVE!
Voices. Who?
{c|(Glasses tremble and ring, some throw their glassware into Jerman; in the midst of this, he shields his head and falls onto the floor.)}]
Nace. Do not sin, Christians, do not sin! No blood! (Peasants push Nace away and run towards Jerman.)
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