The dog was looking at the young priest in a melancholy, almost tearful way; perhaps the sight of the cassock awoke sad memories in him.
"I will keep him," said the priest, and stooping down he patted the dog's lean back. "At all events there will be some living thing near me."
"That will be quite right," said the sacristan. "One must make a beginning, though one generally gets something worth watching first, and then looks out for a watch-dog. But it doesn't matter if it is the other way about."
János Bélyi smiled (he had a very winning smile, like a girl's), for he saw that old Vistula would not have much to do, in fact would be quite like a private gentleman in comparison to his companions.
All this time people had been arriving in the yard to have a look at the new priest; the women kept at a distance, and said: "Dear me! so young and already in holy orders!"
The men went up and shook hands with him, saying, "God bless you! May you be happy with us!"
An old woman called out, "May you be with us till your death!"
The older women admired his looks, and remarked how proud his mother must be of him.
In fact the new priest seemed to have taken every one's fancy, and he spoke a few words with them all, and then said he was tired, and went across to the schoolmaster's, for he was to live there for a time till he could get his own place a bit straight, and until he saw some signs of an income.
Only a few of the more important villagers accompanied him to talk over the state of affairs: Péter Szlávik, the sacristan; Mihály Gongoly, the nabob of Glogova; and the miller, György Klincsok. He began to question them, and took out his note-book, in order to make notes as to what his income was likely to be.