thers
did as they pleased, yet he made enough money by his work to allow him to
spend all his afternoons at the Rehbock, and remain, drinking one glass
after another, all through the evening, and late into the night.

Blasi seated himself by his side, and opened his case very skilfully. He
wanted to know about their old friend; where he was now, and whether there
was any chance of getting a line sent to him. He did not mind paying for a
drink to-night, he said, if Jost would tell him exactly what he knew about
Dietrich; they ought to hang together, they three, who had known each
other ever since they were children. While Blasi was discoursing in this
clever manner, Jost looked squintingly at him, and when he stopped, he
answered scoffingly,

"Oh, so she has come to it at last, has she? I have been expecting it. You
go back and tell her that I can give her all the information she wants;
but she must come to me for it, herself, and speak pleasantly to me, as I
do to her. Tell her that she will never see him again, as long as she
lives; he is too far off. But if she wants to send him a message, she has
but to come to me and ask, and I will do her that favor, and she can do me
one in return. Go now, Blasi, and tell her this from me. I'll pay for the
beer myself."

Blasi felt stunned. Jost had seen through his little game at a glance, and
treated it with contempt. How could he carry such a message to Veronica?
It might bring the tears into her eyes again, and that was altogether too
painful to see. There was no use in remonstrating with Jost, who sat there
smiling scornfully without farther words. For the first time in his life,
Blasi left his glass unfinished. He pulled his cap down over his eyes and
left the inn. When he entered the widow's cottage, Veronica sat by the
table, stitching away at the old mail-bag. She put it down as he came in,
and looked up anxiously into his face.

"It's no use; he is just splitting with rage and fury;" and Blasi threw
his cap across into the farthest corner of the room. He related the whole
conversation and it was plain enough that it was useless for him to try to
get anything out of Jost.

She was silent for a time; thinking over Jost's words. "He wants to humble
me! I am to go and beseech him to tell me; and I must be friendly and do
him a favor. What favor? No, I will have nothing to do with him."

She took up the bag again, stitched up the last hole, and folded the work.
Then she