‘When a man is young he can do without a gun license,’ observed Wastei. ‘When the years begin to come, he wants that and other things too. May-wine in May, Frau Berbel, and brown beer in October.’
‘And all the cherry spirits you can pick up, between times, I suppose. What are the other things?’
‘A good house to live in, and a good wife to roll the potato dumplings. These are two things that are good when the grey years come.’
‘You put the house before the wife, I see,’ remarked Berbel.
‘Because if I had a good house I could have the good wife fast enough. Wastei is not so dull as he looks. He has looked about him in the world. Ay, Frau Berbel, now if you were thinking of being married and had your choice of two men, would you choose the one with a house or the one without? It is a simple question.’ ‘Very simple, Master Wastei,’ answered Berbel, stiffening her stiff neck a little. ‘So simple that it is of no use to think about it, nor even to ask it. When do you want your coat back?’
‘I want a coat, but not that one—whenever you please. But do not hurry yourself, for I shall not catch cold, and my sweetheart does not care whether I have one or not.’
‘So you have a sweetheart, have you?’
‘Ay, and a treasure, too—in my waistcoat pocket,’ explained Wastei, showing the shining edge of the gold piece he had received on the previous day. ‘She has yellow hair, like the lady Hilda’s, and a golden heart like Frau Berbel’s—I only wish she were as big.’
‘Fie, Wastei—making compliments at this time of day, and to an old woman!’
‘Old friends, old logs, old spirits,’ observed Wastei. ‘We have known each other a long time, Frau Berbel, in good and bad days, summer and winter, and you have always been the same to me.’