'I will sell her to you,' cried Grochowski, also striking the table.
'I'll give you…thirty-one roubles…as I love you.' Grochowski embraced him.
'Brother…give me…thirty…and four paper roubles and a silver rouble for the halter.'
The tired children cautiously stole into the room; the gospodyni poured out some soup for them and told them to sit in the corner and be quiet. And quiet they were, except at one moment when Stasiek fell off the bench and his mother slapped Jendrek for it. Maciek dozed, dreaming that he was drinking vodka. He felt the liquor going to his head and fancied himself sitting by the Soltys and embracing him. The fumes of the vodka and the lamp were filling the room. Slimak and Grochowski moved closer together.
'Neighbour…Soltys,' said Slimak, striking the table again. 'I'll give you whatever you wish, your word is worth more than money to me, for you are the cleverest man in the parish. The Wojt is a pig…you are more to me than the Wojt or even the Government Inspector, for you are cleverer than they are…devil take me!'
They fell on each other's shoulders and Grochowski wept.
'Josef, brother,…don't call me Soltys but brother…for we are brothers!'
'Wojciek…Soltys…say how much you want for the cow. I'll give it you, I'll rip myself open to give it you…thirty-five paper roubles and a silver rouble.'
'Oh dear, oh dear!' wailed the gospodyni. 'Weren't you letting the cow go for thirty-three roubles just now, Soltys?'
Grochowski raised his tearful eyes first to her, then to Slimak.