'Perhaps we could come to terms, gospodarz.' The peasant burst out laughing.
'Old man, have you lived so long in this world, and don't understand that I would not sell my land on any terms whatever?'
'You could buy thirty acres the other side of the Bug with what we should pay you.'
'If land is so cheap the other side of the Bug, why don't you buy it yourself instead of coming here?' The son laughed.
'He is no fool, father; he is telling you what I have been telling you from morning till night.'
The old man took Slimak's hand.
'Gospodarz,' he said, pressing it, 'let us talk like Christians and not like heathens. We praise the same God, why should we not agree? You see, I have a son who is an expert miller, and I should like him to have a windmill on that hill. When he has a windmill he will grow steady and work and get married. Then I could be happy in my old age. That hill is nothing to you.'
'But it's my land, no one has a right to it.'
'No one has a right to it, but I want to buy it.'
'Well, and I won't sell it!'