The gospodyni now cleared the bowl off the table and returned with a bottle of vodka, two glasses, and a smoked sausage on a plate. 'To your health, neighbour,' said Slimak, pouring out the vodka. 'Drink in God's name!' They emptied the glasses and began to chew the dry sausage in silence. Maciek was so affected by the sight of the vodka that he folded his hands on his stomach. It struck him that those two must be feeling very happy, so he felt happy too. 'I really don't know whether to buy the cow or not,' said Slimak; 'your price has taken the wish from me.' Grochowski moved uneasily on his chair. 'My dear friend,' he said, 'what am I to do? this is the orphan's affair. I have got to buy her land, if for no other reason but because it annoys my wife.' 'You won't give thirty-five roubles for an acre.' 'Land is getting dearer, because the Germans want to buy it.' 'The Germans?' 'Those who bought Wolka. They want other Germans to settle near here.' 'There were two Germans near my field asking me a lot of questions. I didn't know what they wanted.' 'There you are! they creep in. Directly one has settled, others come like ants after honey, and then the land gets dearer.' 'Do they know anything about peasants' work?' 'Rather! They make more profits than we who are born here. The Germans are clever; they have a lot of cattle, sow clover and carry on a trade in the winter. We can't compete with them.' 'I wonder what their religion is like? They talk to each other like Jews.' 'Their religion is better than the Jews',' the Soltys said, after reflecting; 'but what is not Catholic is nothing. They have churches with benches and an organ; but their priests are married and go about in overcoats, and where the blessed Host ought to be on the altar they have a crucifix, like ours in the porch.' 'That's not as good as our religion.' 'Why!' said Grochowski, 'they don't even pray to the Blessed Mother.' The gospodyni crossed herself. 'It's odd that the Merciful God should bless such people with prosperity. Drink, neighbour!' 'To your health! Why should God not bless them, when they have a lot of cattle? That's at the bottom of all prosperity.' Slimak became pensive and suddenly struck his fist on the table. 'Neighbour,' he cried, raising his voice, 'sell me the cow!' 'I will sell her to you,' cried Grochowski, also striking the table. 'I'll give you...thirty-one roubles...as I love you.' Grochowski embraced him. 'Brother...give me...thirty...and four paper roubles and a silver rouble for the halter.'