At the end of the week the rich man gave him a loaf of bread, and says:
“There’s for your work!”
“Thank you all the same,” dolefully said the poor man, making his bow and preparing to go home.
“Stop a bit! come and dine with me to-morrow, and bring your wife, too: to-morrow is my name-day, you know.”
“Ah, brother! how can I? you know very well you’ll be having merchants coming to you in boots and pelisses, but I have to go about in bast shoes and a miserable old grey caftan.”
“No matter, come! there will be room even for you.”
“Very well, brother! I’ll come.”
The poor man returned home, gave his wife the loaf, and said:
“Listen, wife! we’re invited to a party to-morrow.”
“What do you mean by a party? who’s invited us?”