“Settle what? Lipka was the place to speak with me.” “These three years I have been waiting. People advise me to bring an action at law ... but....” “Do so. I’ll introduce you to a scrivener; yes, and pay him a rouble to draw up a complaint for you!” “... But I think,” the smith went on, with crafty moderation, “it were best to have a friendly understanding.” “Right. ‘By a neighbourly course get what’s not got by force!’” “You say wisely.” “You will get it neither in one way nor in the other.” “I have always told my wife that you, Father, loved justice.” “Everyone wants justice ... on his side. I am indifferent, for I owe nothing.” At those stern words, the blacksmith saw he would get nothing by his former tactics, so he changed them. As if there had been no dispute, he very quietly uttered the request: “Will you stand me a drink? I should like one.” “Certainly, dearest son-in-law: yes, even should you ask for a litre.” The tones were rather sneering; but they entered the corner tavern together. Here they found Ambrose, not drinking, but seated in a corner, sulky and sad. “I feel my bones ache; we shall have nasty weather,” Ambrose predicted. They drank once and again, but saying not a word, each angry with the other. “You take your vodka as they do at a funeral,” Ambrose said; he felt sore at not being invited, for he had scarcely taken anything that morning. “How can we talk? Father-in-law is selling so much to-day that he must think to whom he had best lend his cash out at interest.” “Matthias, Matthias!” cried Ambrose; “I say to you that our Lord....” “Matthias I am—for some, not for you, you saucy fellow!—Look at him! ‘Fain would the swine say to the swineherd, Brother!’” The smith had already taken a couple of stiff drams, and felt inclined to argue. He lowered his tone, to say: “Father-in-law, tell me once for all: will you, or will you not, give what I ask?” “You have heard my answer. I cannot take my land to the grave with me; but, while I am living, not one acre will I give up. I will not be fed at your expense, and mean to enjoy a year or two in this world still.” “Then pay me off!” “I have spoken: have you heard?” “He is looking out,” Ambrose whispered, “for a third wife. What are his children to him?” “That’s likely, indeed!” “Marry I shall, if I choose,” put in Boryna. “Do you object?” “Object? No; but....” “If I choose, I shall send a proposal—yes, and no later than to-morrow!” “Do so. What have I against it? Only let me have Red-and-White’s calf, and I’ll even help you all I can. You, a reasonable man, must know what is best for you. I have said so many a time to my wife: you want a woman in the house to keep it in order.” “Michael! You said that?” “May I die unshriven if I did not! Yes, I did say so. I, who advise the whole village, each man as he requires, should I not know what is good for you?”