"Come, Tripko, are you going to quarrel about a joke?" said one of his friends.
"My wife is no joking matter."
"No, no," continued Radonic, "but he who has the itch scratches himself."
"Then scratch yourself, Marko, for surely you must itch when you're not at home."
"Hum!" said the host, "when asses joke it surely rains."
Then he went up to the guzlar, and begged him to give them a song. "Let it be something lively and merry," said he, "something they can all join in."
The bard thereupon scraped his guzla, silence was re-established, and he began to sing the following zdravica:
"Wine that bubbles says to man:
Drink, oh! drink me when you can;
For I never pass away,
You albeit last but a day;
I am therefore made for you,
And I love men brave and true;
Then remember, I am thine;
Drink, oh! drink the flowing wine!"
As not one of them cared to see the quarrel continue, and end, perhaps, in bloodshed, they all began to sing the drinking-song; the wine flowed, the glasses jingled together in a friendly way, and, for the nonce, peace prevailed.
Just then, Milenko—unperceived by everybody except the landlord —happened to come in, and the host, taking him aside, said to him: