'How about my money, Pan Maciek?' said the publican.
'What money?'
'Have you forgotten? You owe me two roubles since Christmas'
Maciek swore at him. 'Everybody knows that one can only get a drink from you for cash.'
'That's true on the whole. But when you were tipsy at Christmas, you embraced and kissed me so many times, I couldn't help myself and gave you credit.'
'Have you got witnesses?' Maciek said sharply. 'I tell you, old Jew, you won't take me in.'
The publican reflected for a moment.
'I have no witnesses,' he said, 'therefore I will never mention the matter to you again. Since you swear to me here in the presence of other people, that you did not kiss me and beg for credit, I make you a present of your debt, but it's a shame,' the publican added, spitting, 'that a man working for such a respectable gospodarz as Slimak, should cheat a poor Jew. Don't ever set foot in my inn again!'
The labourer hesitated. Did he really owe that money?
'Well,' he said, 'since you say I owe you the money, I will give it you. But take care God does not punish you if you are wronging me.' In his heart, however, he doubted whether God would ever punish any one on account of such a low creature as he was.