"You are not wiser." "But if you are so wise, then tell what was the surname of our first father?" "How? Yadam, of course." "That is a Christian name; but his surname?" "Do I know?" "See there! But I do. His surname was Skrushyla." "You must have the pip." "If you don't believe, then listen:-- "'Gwiazdo morza, któraś Pana Mlekiem swojém wykarmila Tyś śmiercì szczep, który wszczepil Pierwszy rodzic, wszczepil.'"[9] [9] The translation of those four lines is:-- Star of the sea who nourished The Lord with thy milk, The seed of death engrafted by our first father, Thou didst crush. The last line in the Polish if taken alone would mean, our first father, Skrushyla, and the wise Gomula takes it alone. Taken in connection with its pronoun and ending the compound Tys, the first word in the third line, it means: Thou hast crushed. "Well, and isn't it Skrushyla?" "You are right this time." "You had better take another drink," said the mayor. "Your healths, gossips!" "Your health!" "Haim!" "Siulim!" "God give happiness!" All three drank; but since that was at the time of the Franco-German War, Councilman Gomula returned again to politics. "Well, drink again!" said Burak, after a while. "The Lord God give happiness!" "The Lord God reward!" "Well, to your health!" They drank again, and, since they drank arrack, Repa struck his empty glass on the table, and said,-- "Ei! that was good! good!" "Well, have another?" asked Burak. "Pour it out!" Repa grew still redder; Burak kept filling his glass. "But you," said he at last to Repa, "though you are able to throw a korzets of peas on your shoulder with one hand, would be afraid to go to the war." "Why should I be afraid? If to fight, then, fight." "One man is small, but very brave; another is strong, but cowardly," said Gomula. "That is not true!" answered Repa. "I am not cowardly." "Who knows what you are?" "But I will go," said Repa, showing his fist, which was as big as a loaf of bread. "If I should go into one of you with this fist, you would fly apart like an old barrel." "But I might not." "Do you want to try?" "Be quiet!" interrupted the mayor. "Are you going to fight or what? Let us drink again." They drank again; but Burak and Gomula merely moistened their lips. Repa emptied a whole glass of arrack, so that his eyes were white. "Let us kiss now," said the mayor. Repa burst into tears at the embraces and kisses, which was a sign that he was well drunk; then he fell to complaining, lamenting bitterly over the blue calf which had died two weeks before in his cowhouse at night. "Oh, what a calf that was which the Lord God took from me!" cried he, piteously. "Well, don't mourn aver the calf!" said Burak. "A writing has come to the secretary from the government, that the landlord's forests will go to the cottagers." "And in justice!" answered Repa. "Was it the landlord who planted the forest?" Then again he began to lament,--