On another occasion Crammon was a guest on an estate in Hungary, and
planned with a group of young men, who were visiting a neighbouring
country-house, to attend a festivity in the next town. The dawn was
breaking when the friends separated. Crammon, with senses slightly
dulled, went on alone and longed for the bed from which half an hour’s
walk still separated him. By chance he came upon a cattle market
crowded with peasants, who had brought in their cows and calves from
the villages around.
The crowd brought him to a halt, and he stopped to listen while a bull
was being offered for sale. The auctioneer cried: “I am offered fifty
crowns!” There was no answer; the peasants were slowly turning the
matter over in their minds.
Fifty crowns for a bull? To Crammon’s mind, from which the wine fumes
had not quite faded, it seemed remarkable, and without hesitation he
offered five crowns more. The peasants drew aside respectfully. One of
them offered fifty-six; Crammon bid fifty-eight. The auctioneer raised
his three-fold cry; the hammer fell. Crammon owned the bull.
A magnificent beast, he said to himself, and felt quite satisfied with
his bargain. But when the time came for him to pay, he discovered that
the bidding had been so much per hundred weight, and since the bull
weighed twelve hundred and fifty pounds, he was required to pay seven
hundred and twenty-five crowns.
He refused angrily. A loud squabble followed; but his arguments were
useless. The bull was his property. But he had no such sum of money on
his person, and had to hire a man to accompany him with the animal to
his friend’s house.
He strode on wretchedly vexed. The man followed, dragging the unwilling
bull by a rope.
His host helped Crammon out of his embarrassment by purchasing the
bull, but the incident furnished endless amusement to the whole
countryside.