Part 6 (1/2)
”How much did it cost you?” asked Iermola.
”Oh, it has cost me-- I cannot tell you how much. First, when it was just born, I paid two roubles for it. For you see this is no ordinary goat; it is of a fine breed,--a very rare breed. I would not take six roubles for it; she eats almost nothing, and she is always fat, and every year she bears two kids.”
After this speech there was a moment of silence. Iermola turned pale and became agitated, not knowing what to say. He gazed at the goat, which continued to walk around, stamping on the ground with her hoof, and poking her head into every corner where she perceived the faintest odour of food. She occupied herself in picking up scattered leaves, bits of bark, and cabbage stalks; and in justice to her, it must be said that she minded her own business and disturbed no one.
”She would suit you exactly,” said Chwedko, resuming his role of courtier. ”She never would run away, because she is already accustomed to the village. She knows where to go to graze; she is old, gentle, and used to being milked.”
”And she is not an ordinary goat,” repeated the Jew, in a sententious tone; ”she is of a rare breed,--a good breed.”
”But where should I find so much money?” sighed Iermola.
”Come, see here,” answered Szmula, coming nearer and speaking earnestly, ”you are an honest man; I will have every consideration for you. In the town people might cheat you; I will give you a good bargain, and let you have the goat for three roubles. Now that is the best I can do; make up your mind.”
Chwedko, who had not expected such reasonable terms, hastened to conclude the bargain, quite satisfied to find Szmula in such an accommodating mood.
”Come, hold out your hand, neighbour, and thank my lord merchant; you have made an excellent bargain. Pay for the animal and take her; I hope you will be quite satisfied with her.”
”Well, what shall we do?” sighed the old serving-man. ”I will take it at that price, since my lord merchant will not take less. Please give me a bit of cord so I can lead the goat home.”
Accordingly, the purchase was quickly made and satisfactorily beyond all expectations. Iermola drew from a knot in the corner of his handkerchief three roubles, which he gave to Szmula. The Jew examined them, threw them on the ground, as was his custom, and then, dropped them into his pocket.
”You will return the string to-morrow?” said he, as he slowly retired to his chamber.
”How about the treat?” said Chwedko, timidly.
”That is Iermola's right,” answered Szmula, ”but since he did none of the bargaining, you shall not pay for your little gla.s.s of brandy; I will treat myself.”
Then Marysia threw to the two friends a piece of cord with a buckle at the end which was used to carry the f.a.gots of kindling-wood. And Chwedko, having shut the door, began to chase the goat, who, suspecting some foul play, fled from the least approach of her two pursuers. The Jew had already gone away to his own apartment.
”Well, upon my word, you have shown your sense,” cried the servant when she saw that her worthy master had disappeared. ”What a shame to give twenty florins for a miserable old beast! you might have bought three young ones at the fair for that price.”
The two old men kept silence; and having tied the string to the animal's horns, they led their conquest away.
Iermola was trembling with pleasure; the tears filled his eyes; and he embraced his neighbour.
”You have done me a great service; may G.o.d reward you!” he murmured.
”For the present, I shall not think of showing myself at Szmula's house,” sighed Chwedko, who recognized the full extent of the danger to which he had exposed himself. ”As soon as he hears about the baby, the rascal will suspect some trick, and never will forgive me. He would have fleeced you famously had he known that the goat was such a necessity.”
Talking thus in low tones, they reached the widow's hut, forcing the goat to obedience by various means, more or less gentle, for she had not the slightest desire to go away from the inn.
Meantime the storm began to mutter behind them, for Sara, greatly enraged, had just rejoined her husband, and was relating to him the story of the baby left at old Iermola's house, which news she had just learned from Marysia, the bar-maid.
Szmula, who was not wanting in sagacity, understood at once why his goat had suddenly become so necessary; he pulled his beard and bit his finger-nails.
”Just wait a while, you rascal, you scoundrel of a Chwedko,” muttered he, shaking his head. ”If I live only a little while longer, I will pay you for it.”
VI.
WHEN ONE LOVES.