He broke into a croaking laugh, and hurried off. The others lingered on to talk, but the talk flagged, partly through their sorrow, partly on account of the intense heat. It was indeed so hot that all the flowers and plants were fading, and the walls shedding tears of resin. Of a sudden a bellow, long-drawn and plaintive, was heard, and a peasant, driving a cow, passed by on the farther side of the pond. He pulled her hard by the rope, while they looked on in dull silence. “Taking her to the priest’s bull, I suppose,” Yagustynka said; but no one took any interest in her remark. The bells rang for Vespers and they took leave of Hanka, who then sent Vitek to ask the smith to go with her and arrange with the priest for the funeral expenses. He presently returned, saying that the smith was in conference with the Squire and the miller, and taking afternoon tea together; his stallions were outside, pawing the ground in the shade. “He with the Squire!—How strange!” But she could not wait, and accompanied by Magda, dressed in her best, she went to the priest’s house. He was in the farm-yard, and sent them word he would see them there. He sat in the shade, close to the fence. In the middle of the yard, not far from a rather fine cow that a peasant held fast with a rope, a powerful dappled bull was turning round and round her, kept back with difficulty by the priest’s farm-servant, pulling at the end of his chain. “Valek! Just wait a little: he is not ready yet,” the priest called out. Then, mopping his bald head, he called the women to him, and asked about Boryna’s death, and consoled and comforted them with the greatest kindness. But when they inquired about the funeral fees, he stopped them short, saying impatiently: “Of those things later. I am no extortioner. Matthias was the biggest farmer in the village; he cannot have a mean funeral. No, I tell you, he cannot,” he repeated fiercely, as was his way. They embraced his feet, not venturing to insist. “Ah!” he cried suddenly. “You little blackguards! I’ll give it you! Look at them, those bad boys!” He was addressing the organist’s sons, peeping surreptitiously over the hedge.—“Well, and what think ye of my bull, hey?” “A splendid beast!” Hanka replied. “Finer than the miller’s.” “The two differ as much as a bull differs from a wagon! Only look at him!” And he came nearer with them, and patted the flanks of the animal, that now was approaching closer to the cow. “Oh, what a neck! what a back! what a splendid chest! what a dewlap!” he cried, breathless with enthusiasm. “Why, ’tis no bull, ’tis a bison!” “Indeed, I never saw so fine a one.” “No, ye never did. It is a thoroughbred Hollander. Cost me three hundred roubles.” “So great a sum as that?” they exclaimed in amazement.