He flung the jug from him upon the ground.
"You have sorrowed enough, Cossack," growled a bass voice behind him.
He looked round--it was Basavriuk! Ugh, what a face! His hair was like a brush, his eyes like those of a bull.

"I know what you lack: here it is." As he spoke he jingled a leather purse which hung from his girdle and smiled diabolically.

Peter shuddered.

"Ha, ha, ha! how it shines!" he roared, shaking out ducats into his hands: "ha, ha, ha! how it jingles! And I only ask one thing for a whole pile of such shiners." "It is the Evil One!" exclaimed Peter.

"Give me them! I'm ready for anything!" They struck hands upon it, and Basavriuk said, "You are just in time, Peter: to-morrow is St.John the Baptist's day.