Oldal 129 [129]
SWAN DAS RL EE
“Brothers,” said the black man, “I bring you friend
Swanda, whom you have long known by reputation. I
thought to please you on this feast-day by giving you a
little music.”
“A good idea!” said one of the players. Then, taking
the jug, he handed it to Swanda, saying, “Here, piper,
drink and play.”
Swanda had some scruples; but, after all, it is impos¬
sible to have charcoal without putting your finger mto the
ashes. The wine, though rather warm, was not bad. He
replaced the jug on the table, and raising his hat, said,
“Good luck, brother!" as he had been advised.
He began to play, and never had his music produced such
an effect. Each note made the players leap for joy. Their
eyes shot forth flames; they moved about uneasily in their
chairs; they staked the ducats by handfuls; they shouted
and burst into loud fits of laughter without stirring a muscle
of their pallid faces. The jug passed from hand to hand,
always full, though replenished by no one.
As soon as Swanda finished an air they handed him
the jug, from which he never failed to drink deeply, and
threw handfuls of gold into his hat. “‘ Good luck, brother!”
he repeated, astounded at his fortune—‘‘good luck!”
The feast lasted a long time. At last, the piper having
struck up a polka, the black men, in a transport of mirth,
quitted the table and danced and waltzed with an ardor
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