'But are not you going to sit down?'
'I always eat last with the children. Maciek, you may take your bowl.'
Maciek, grinning, took his portion and sat down on a bench opposite the alcove, so that he could see the Soltys and listen to human intercourse, for which he was longing. He looked contentedly from behind his steaming bowl at the table; the smoking lamp seemed to him the most brilliant illumination, and the wooden chairs the height of comfort. The sight of the Soltys, who was lolling back, filled him with reverence. Was it not he who had driven him to the recruiting-office when it was the time for the drawing of lots? who had ordered him to be taken to the hospital and told him he would come out completely cured? who collected the taxes and carried the largest banner at the processions and intoned 'Let us praise the Holy Virgin'? And now he, Maciek Owczarz, was sitting under one roof with this same Grochowski.
How comfortable he made himself! Maciek tried to lean back in the same fashion, but the scandalized wall pushed him forward, reminding him that he was not the Soltys. So although his back ached, he bent still lower and hid his feet in their torn boots under the bench. Why should he be comfortable? It was enough if the master and the Soltys were. He ate his soup and listened with both ears.
'What makes you take the cow to Gryb?' asked the gospodyni.
'Because he wants to buy her.'
'We might buy her ourselves.'
'Yes, that might be so,' put in Slimak; 'the girl is here, the cow should be here too.'
'That's right, isn't it, Maciek?' asked the woman.
'Oho, ho!' laughed Maciek, till the soup ran out of his spoon.