"You will see that this will not help you at all."
"Perhaps it may be so; but how can I do it?"
"You may try, of course, for you will not mind the time. But do you believe that these potters will be sufficiently tempted by your money to give you the secrets of their art?"
"But I will pay them well."
"They are not so foolish as to give a florin for a penny. Do they not know that you want to take the bread out of their mouths? You are not going to learn for your amusement,--that is clear."
At these words, Iermola seemed troubled and bowed his head.
"All that is very true," said he; "but when once God has helped you, He never abandons you till the end. I hesitated very much before, when I went to see Procope; I did not even know where to go to find clay. Yet it was found, and everything succeeded, and now--well, something will turn up."
Something will turn up, is the great unanswerable argument of our poor people, to which they have recourse when all others fail,--an argument which answers for everything and puts an end to all difficulties, for it tacitly expresses faith in Providence and confidence in the intervention of God.
At this moment the gray mare, being accustomed always to eat her small ration of hay in front of the inn, situated about a third of the way and in the midst of the wood, did not go past the well-known place, but stopped of her own accord. Chwedko also got down here regularly to drink a small glass of brandy and light his pipe.
He felt, however, some confusion, seeing that the gray had stopped without his permission; he dared not, in Iermola's presence, go and take his dram without any excuse, but he got down from the wagon and threw a handful of hay to the mare.