“‘Wilhelm.’
“‘Where?’
“‘At the public-house.’
“‘How do you know?’
“‘Fritz, the stable-boy has just seen him.’
“‘What’s the matter with him?’
“Gretchen hung her head, and the tears streamed down her cheeks,
“‘He is—he is—Oh, Meinherr—it is not the beer—nobody ever gets that way with our beer—it is something he—’
“’ Drunk!’
“‘Yes, dead drunk, and under the table like a hog in the mud—Oh, my poor Wilhelm! Oh, who has been so wicked to you! Oh! Oh!’ and she ran from the room.