It was he himself who one night broke this tacit understanding of silence on the sad question which was becoming a crisis; he suddenly awoke, sprang up and sat down on the edge of the bed. 'What's the matter, Josef?' asked his wife. 'Oh...I was dreaming that we had no fodder left and all the cows had died.' 'In the name of the Father and the Son...may you not have spoken that in an evil hour!' 'There is not enough fodder for five tails...it's no good pretending.' 'Well, then, what will you do?' 'How do I know?' 'Perhaps one could...' 'Maybe sell one of them...' finished the husband. The word had fallen. Next time Slimak went to the inn he gave Josel a hint, who passed it on at once to two butchers in the little town. When they came to the cottage, Slimakowa refused to speak to them and Magda began to cry. Slimak took them to the yard. 'Well, how is it, gospodarz, you want to sell a cow?' 'How can I tell?' 'Which one is it? Let's see her.' Slimak said nothing, and Maciek had to take up the conversation. 'If one is to be sold, it may as well be Lysa.' 'Lead her out,' urged the butchers. Maciek led the unfortunate cow into the yard; she seemed astonished at being taken out at such an unusual hour. The butchers looked her over, chattered in Yiddish and asked the price. 'How do I know?' Slimak said, still irresolute. 'What's the good of talking like that, you know as well as we do that she's an old beast. We will give you fifteen roubles.' Slimak relapsed into silence, and Maciek had to do the bargaining; after much shouting and pulling about of the cow, they agreed on eighteen roubles. A rope was laid on her horns and the stick about her shoulders, and they started. The cow, scenting mischief, would not go; first she turned back to the cowshed and was dragged towards the highroad, then she lowed so miserably that Maciek went pale and Magda was heard to sob loudly: the gospodyni would not look out of the window. The cow finally planted herself firmly on the ground with her four feet rigidly fixed, and looked at Slimak with rolling eyes as if to say: 'Look, gospodarz, what they are doing to me...for six years I have been with you and have honestly done my duty, stand by me now.' Slimak did not move, and the cow at last allowed herself to be led away, but when she had been plodding along for a little distance, he slowly followed. He pressed the Jews' money in his hand and thought: 'Ought I to have sold you? I should never have done it if the merciful God had not been angry with us; but we might all starve.' He stood still, leant against the railings and turned all his misfortunes over in his mind; now and then the thought that he might still run and buy her back stole into his mind. He suddenly noticed that old Hamer had come close up to him. 'Are you coming to see me, gospodarz?' he asked. 'I'll come, if you will sell me fodder.'