The Soltys reflected once more.

'You see, it's like this; if it were my cow I would come down. But she
belongs to a poor orphan. How could I harm her? Give me thirty-five
paper roubles and a silver rouble and the cow will be yours.'

'That's too much,' sighed Slimak.

'But she is worth it!' said the Soltys.

'Still, money sits in the chest and doesn't eat.'

'Neither will it give milk.'

'I should have to rent the field.'

'That will be cheaper than buying fodder.'

A long silence ensued, then Slimak said:

'Well, neighbour, say your last word.'

'I tell you, thirty-five paper roubles and a silver rouble. Gryb will
be angry, but I'll do this for you.'

The gospodyni now cleared the bowl off the table and returned with a
bottle of vodka, two glasses, and a smoked sausage on a plate.

'To your health, neighbour,' said Slimak, pouring out the vodka.