least not enjoy her dinner; Chwastowski, again, who, by the bye, is an
excellent manager, is a compound of brimstone and saltpetre, and does
not allow anybody to thwart him; therefore the quarrels sometimes
reach the acute state. When entering the dining-room they eye each
other with suspicious glances. The first shot is fired by my aunt
while eating her soup.

"It is a very long time, Pan Chwastowski, since I heard anything
about the winter crops, and Pan Chwastowski, instead of giving me the
information, speaks about anything but what I want to know."

"They were very promising in autumn, my lady; now they are covered by
a yard or two of snow,--how am I to know the state they are in? I am
not the Lord Almighty."

"I beg of you, Pan Chwastowski, not to take the Lord's name in vain."

"I do not look under His snow, therefore do not offend Him."

"Do you mean to insinuate that I do?"

"Most certainly."

"Pan Chwastowski, you are unbearable."

"Oho! bearable enough because he bears a great deal."

In this or that way the screw goes round. There is scarcely a meal but
they have some differences. Then my aunt at last subsides, and seems
to wreak the remnants of her anger on the dinner. She enjoys a hearty