“Well, what thinkest thou, aged wife of my bosom, when are we to be banished,” enquired old Loyka.
“Well, if it has to be, perhaps the sooner it is done the better,” said Joseph’s mother, thinking at the same time that her son would say that there was no need of shifting just yet.
“As you will,” said Joseph. “I will send the servants at once to help you to remove your things.” He turned the matter in this way, so that he might still appear in the light of a dutiful son.
“Send them, Joseph, send them,” said old Loyka, and on this Joseph departed.
But old Loyka did not tarry for the servants. He at once began to drag from the wall chests and drawers, and to remove the chairs from their places by the table, and all in as much haste as though an enemy was approaching and everything had to be cleared out of the way within an hour.
Then came the servants into the apartment to assist; but old Loyka thanked them with a kind of mock reverence for their zeal, and requested them to send Vena to him who would help him best, and would also season his work with some wise saws and maxims.
So, then, Vena came, and scarcely had he appeared in the doorway before he exclaimed: “See, see, pantata, might you not just as well have let yourself be ousted that day when your son had got you half
