Iván laughed.
'How clever!' said he. 'This is fine! How pleased the girls will be!'
'Now let me go,' said the imp.
'No,' said Iván, 'I must make my soldiers of thrashed straw, otherwise good grain will be wasted. Teach me how to change them back again into the sheaf. I want to thrash it.'
And the imp said, 'Repeat:
"Let each be a straw
Who was soldier before,
For my true slave
This order gave!"'
Iván said this, and the sheaf reappeared.
Again the imp began to beg, 'Now let me go!'
'All right.' And Iván pressed him against the side of the cart, held him down with his hand, and pulled him off the fork.
'God be with you,' said he.
And as soon as he mentioned God, the imp plunged into the earth like a stone into water. Only a hole was left.
Iván returned home, and there was his other brother, Tarás with his wife, sitting at supper.
Tarás the Stout had failed to pay his debts, had run away from his creditors, and had come home to his father's house. When he saw Iván, 'Look here,' said he, 'till I can start in business again, I want you to keep me and my wife.'
'All right,' said Iván, 'you can live here, if you like.'
Iván took off his coat and sat down to table, but the merchant's wife said: 'I cannot sit at table with this clown, he smells of perspiration.'
Then Tarás the Stout said, 'Iván, you smell too strong. Go and eat outside.'
'All right,' said Iván, taking some bread and going into the yard. 'It is time, anyhow, for me to go and pasture the mare.'
