“Shall we celebrate such an occasion in a tavern?” “As our fathers of yore. I, the Voyt, have spoken.” Yagna and Dominikova put on their best dresses, and all started off. But the Voyt remarked how disappointed her brothers were looking. “Are the lads to remain, then?” he said. “It is their sister’s engagement-day: some pleasure is due to them.” “Can we leave the house to the care of Providence?” “Then take Agatha from the Klembas; she will see to the place.” “She has gone begging. We shall get someone on our way. Well, Simon and Andrew, come; but put your capotes on. Would you come in your shabby everyday clothes?—And if either of you gets tipsy ... he will never forget it!—The kine have not yet been cared for, and ye must mash potatoes for the swine.—See ye to it.” “We will, Mother, we will!” they both exclaimed, trembling with fear, though they were both big lads, as high as a small pear-tree, such as are planted along the fields. And so presently they went to the tavern. The night was murky and as dark as pitch, as is usual enough during the autumn rains. The wind roared overhead, swaying the tree-tops till they nearly lashed the neighbouring hedges. When they arrived, the tavern had a gloomy look. A pane had been broken in the window, and the gusts that entered made the tiny lamp which hung above the bar by a cord swing there to and fro like a golden flower. Boryna rushed to welcome and embrace and hug them warmly, knowing that Yagna was already as good as his own. “Our Lord hath said: ‘Thou worm, take unto thee a wife, that thou, poor wretch, shouldst not suffer loneliness!’” So Ambrose said, or bleated rather: he had been drinking for more than an hour, and was good for little, either in the talking or the walking line. The Jew instantly set before them rum, sweetened vodka, and “essence”; also salt herrings, saffron-seasoned cakes, and others (very dainty) made with poppy-seed. “Eat ye, drink ye, dearly beloved brethren, true Christians!” cried Ambrose, taking upon himself to invite the guests. “I had a wife once—but cannot at all remember now where—In France, I think—no, in Italy! No, not there—but now I am bereft and a widower.... I tell you: our ancients used to cry thus: ‘Attention!’” Here Boryna interrupted him. “Drink deep, friends!... And you, Peter, give the example!” And then he brought Yagna a whole _zloty’s_ worth of caramels, and put them into her hand. “Here you are, Yagna, they are very sweet: here you are!” She made as if she were disinclined to take them. “They cost so much money,” she said.