Then there was silence, which was broken by the sudden plashing of horses’ feet before the door, and a voice calling to the horses,—
“Prrr!”
Voytek Margula walked into the inn with a lighted lantern in his hand. He put down the lantern, began to slap his arms to warm them, and at last said to the innkeeper,—
“Give half a quarter.”
“Margula, thou chestnut,” cried Kulik, “thou wilt take the little girl to Leschyntsi.”
“I’ll take her, for they told me to take her,” replied Margula.
Then looking closely to the two women he added,—
“But ye are as drunk as—”
“May the plague choke thee,” retorted Kulik. “When I tell thee to be careful with the child, be careful. She is an orphan. Knowest thou, fool, who is above her?”
Voytek did not see fit to answer that question, but determined evidently to raise another subject, and began,—