The peasant got home, shovelled the money into his cellar, took the oxen back to his neighbor, and set about considering how he should manage. It ended in his buying a wood, building a large homestead, and becoming twice as rich as his brother. After a time he went into the town to invite his brother and sister-in-law to spend his name-day with him. "What an idea!" said his rich brother: "you haven't a thing to eat, and yet you ask people to spend your name-day with you!" "Well, there was a time when I had nothing to eat, but now, thank God! I've as much as you. If you come, you'll see for yourself." "So be it! I'll come," said his brother. Next day the rich brother and his wife got ready, and went to the name-day party. They could see that the former beggar had got a new house, a lofty one, such as few merchants had! And the moujik treated them hospitably, regaled them with all sorts of dishes, gave them all sorts of meads and spirits to drink. At length the rich man asked his brother: "Do tell me by what good luck have you grown rich?" The peasant made a clean breast of everything--how Woe the Woeful had attached itself to him, how he and Woe had drunk away all that he had, to the very last thread, so that the only thing that was left him was the soul in his body. How Woe showed him a treasure in the open field, how he took that treasure, and freed himself from Woe into the bargain. The rich man became envious. "Suppose I go to the open field," thinks he, "and lift up the stone and let Woe out. Of a surety it will utterly destroy my brother, and then he will no longer brag of his riches before me!" So he sent his wife home, but he himself hastened into the plain. When he came to the big stone, he pushed it aside, and knelt down to see what was under it. Before he had managed to get his head down low enough, Woe had already leapt out and seated itself on his shoulders. "Ha!" it cried, "you wanted to starve me to death in here! No, no! Now will I never on any account depart from you." "Only hear me, Woe!" said the merchant: "it wasn't I at all who put you under the stone." "Who was it then, if it wasn't you?" "It was my brother put you there, but I came on purpose to let you out." "No, no! that's a lie. You tricked me once; you shan't trick me a second time!" Woe gripped the rich merchant tight by the neck; the man had to carry it home, and there everything began to go wrong with him. From the very first day Woe began again to play its usual part, every day it called on the merchant to renew his drinking.[234] Many were the valuables which went in the pot-house. "Impossible to go on living like this!" says the merchant to himself. "Surely I've made sport enough for Woe! It's time to get rid of it--but how?"