turned out of doors. What work we had to set all straight again-and all in vain. But if it must be so, then the Lord God help you.”
Old Loyka paused beside a chest, and said “Prythee, how sayst thou? It seems to me that thou dost completely pity me?”
“Pantata,” answered Vena, “I do pity you. I pity every one as soon as he is pensioned off. I ever jeered at you when you evilly entreated the pensioner on your bounty, and I pitied him, your own father, while it went on. If I could have remembered how your father played the hospodar, I should have pitied the pensioner on his bounty, and if I live to see Joseph pensioned off, I shall begin to pity him, and I shall give it his successor—perhaps his son. Oh! ye peasant proprietors! how ill you regulate your affairs. Come move out of the way old tea-chest,” he said, turning abruptly towards Loyka, as though he meant him by this expression.
“Pray, what do mean by that,” said Loyka, and nudged himself into a certain amount of good humour and tried to smile.
“I mean by that, that you are the principal piece of furniture which hampers Joseph here, and that if you would walk off to the lumber room all the rest might be permitted to remain,” sneered Vena.
“Listen, aged wife of my bosom, listen to this sapient Solomon. So long we have had him in the house and never knew his worth. We have to be
