“Won’t you have a drink with us?” I asked the innkeeper. He sat down. “Those peasants are beasts,” said the innkeeper.
“We saw that one at a funeral coming into town.”
“That was his wife.”
“Oh.”
“He’s a beast. All these peasants are beasts.”
“How do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe what just happened about that one.”
“Tell me.”
“You wouldn’t believe it.” The innkeeper spoke to the sexton. “Franz, come over here.” The sexton came, bringing his little bottle of wine and his glass.
“The gentlemen are just come down from the Wiesbadenerhütte,” the innkeeper said. We shook hands.