rn, in the stables, in the house, round about the house,
everywhere where his wife happened to be. Hitherto he had only felt
safe in the inn, and then only when he was quite alone with his glass
and the buzzing bluebottles that flew up and down the dull window-pane.

And now they were spoiling that for him too. He gazed at the laughing
men as though they were his enemies. Then, finishing his glass, he
turned away without saying good-bye or casting a glance at the numerous
strokes which the landlord had chalked on the board, and trotted out of
the door with his shoulders drawn up and his big head on one side, as
though he were ducking down for some reason or other.

The men felt ready to laugh once more as they followed him with their
eyes. "Mad!" exclaimed Schmielke, as he struck his thigh. But they did
not laugh after all.

"If he makes himself so drunk every day, he'll not [Pg 221] know soon
what his wife is up to," remarked Jokisch, rubbing his nose
thoughtfully.

"Who can blame her for it?" said Schmielke, in a tone of excuse. "She
must be twenty years younger than he, and Mr. Tiralla has never been an
Adonis. Between ourselves I can quite understand that a woman like the
fair Sophia favours somebody else. You are still very narrow-minded in
this part of the world, gentlemen. I'm only sorry that I'm not the
favoured one."

"An idiot, nothing but a stupid boy," cried Jokisch angrily, full of
envy.

They were all envious. But Schmielke, the man of the world, consoled
himself and the others by saying, "Who knows whose turn it may be next,
now that she has begun?"

So they all pinned their faith to that.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mr. Tiralla tottered slowly down the village street. The sun was
glowing so that the dust which flew up in clouds as he shuffled along
glistened before his lowered face as though it were mingled with gold.
He neither heard nor saw anything, and he was not thinking, either.
After passing the last cottage in Starawie['s], he mechanically took
the parched track across the fields in the direction of home.

The early summer sun was shining down on the immense plains; the
fine-looking ears of corn that swayed to and fro were already about as
high as a man. The clover lay cut in the meadows, and emitted a
powerful smell as it dried quickly in the sun. The air was full of a
continuous buzzing of insects that glistened like gold, and of the
trills of inv