Iuk, comprehending that some sort of bargaining was going on in his presence without his being able to know just what it was about, hastened to join the group, planting his snout between the two faces, and fearing lest an opportunity to sell something should slip from under his nose.
"What are you bargaining over there?" he muttered.
"A cat in a sack," answered the fellow from Mrozowica.
"Come, come! why do you joke so?" replied the innkeeper. "What is there for sale? I will buy it."
"They are haggling over the price of glazing pitchers," answered Chwedko.
The Jew, not being able to comprehend, shrugged his shoulders and withdrew a few steps, keeping a watch from his seat by the stove over the traders, who would be obliged to come to him for the drink which would clinch the bargain.
After having haggled sufficiently, they ended the matter by the payment of five roubles. They shook hands, drank a bumper of Bebnow brandy, and Iermola, accompanied by the man from Mrozowica, prepared to return to the village.
"In this case, I shall not go on to the city to-day," muttered Chwedko, somewhat confused; "the rain would certainly catch me on the road."
Iermola and Siepak (that was the name of the newcomer) seated themselves beside Chwedko on the wagon-box, and they returned together to Popielnia, to the great despair of Iuk, who was not able to succeed in getting at the matter, and who vaguely scented under it all a sum of money which was beyond his reach.
Thus it was that the art of glazing pottery was introduced into Popielnia; and Iermola thanked God for it as though a miracle had been wrought.