"Yes," said the Jewess, and hastened out immediately with a little trough of wheat for the horse, and a stoup of beer for the rider.
"Where's your Jew?"
"In the other room, at prayer," replied the Jewess, bowing and wishing Bulba good health, as he raised the drinking-cup to his lips.
"Remain here and feed and water my horse, and I'll go and speak with him alone. I have business with him."
This Jew was that Yankel, already known to us. He was there as a revenue-farmer and dram-shop keeper. He had gradually got all the neighbouring noblemen and gentry into his clutches, had slowly sucked away most of their money, had made his presence severely felt in that region. For a distance of three miles in every direction not a single cottage remained in a proper condition. All were falling in ruins; all had been drunk away, and rags and poverty alone remained; the whole neighbourhood was devastated as if after a fire or an epidemic. And if Yankel had lived there ten years, he would, probably, have depopulated the Voevod's entire domain.
Taras entered the room. The Jew was praying, wrapped in his dirty scarf, and was turning to spit for the last time, in accordance with the forms of his creed, when his eye suddenly alighted upon
