Tomek invited everybody to his house, because 'the reverend Father had said to him, that other-wise the ceremony would doubtless end in an ungodly way at the public-house.' Antek's answer to the invitation was a curse. The four of them, including Ignatz and the peasant Smoletz, turned into the inn. They drank four quarts of spirits mixed with fat, ate three pounds of sausages, and talked about the money transaction. The heat of the room and the spirits soon made Antek very drunk. He stumbled so on the way home that his wife took him firmly under the arm. Smoletz remained at the inn to drink an extra glass in prospect of the loan, but Ignatz ran home ahead as fast as he could, for he was horribly cold. 'Look here, mother...,' said Antek, 'the five acres are mine! aha! mine, do you hear? In the autumn I shall sow wheat and barley, and in the spring we will plant potatoes... mine... they are mine!... God is my comfort, sayest thou...,' he suddenly began to sing. The storm was raging, and howling. 'Shut up! You'll fall down, and that will be the end of it.' '... His angel keepeth watch...,' he stopped abruptly. The darkness was impenetrable, nothing could be seen at a distance of two feet. The blizzard had reached the highest degree of fury; whistling and howling on a gigantic scale filled the air, and mountains of snow hurled themselves upon them. From Tomek's cottage came the sound of funeral chants and loud talking when they passed by. 'These heathen! These thieves! You wait, I'll show you my five acres! Then I shall have ten. You won't lord it over me! Dogs'-breed... aha! I'll work, I'll slave, but I shall get it, eh, mother? we will get it, what?' he hammered his chest with his fist, and rolled his drunken eyes. He went on like this for a while, but as soon as they reached their home, the woman dragged him into bed, where he fell down like a dead man. But he did not go to sleep yet, for after a time he shouted: 'Ignatz!' The boy approached, but with caution, for fear of contact with the paternal foot. 'Ignatz, you dead dog! Ignatz, you shall be a first-class peasant, not a beggarly professional man,' he bawled, and brought his fist down on the bedstead. 'The five acres are mine, mine! Foxy Germans,[1] you... da...' He went to sleep. [Footnote 1: 'The term 'German' is used for 'foreigner' generally, whom the Polish peasant despises.] THE SENTENCE BY J. KADEN-BANDKOWSKI 'Yakob... Yakob... Yakob!'