"Neiting," he said, "the string is cutting me."
"Why, Weber, how can it cut you?"
"It cuts me, Neiting; and I'm not a Turkish Pasha, trying how it feels when you strangle yourself with a silk cord."
"Well, is it right now?"
"Hm! Yes;--but it's a very troublesome thing."
"What is, Weber?"
"About the old Gielow Miller. The old man has gone quite mad; at least I try to think so, though his conduct savours strongly of knavery."
"What has he done?"
"Why, he has kept all the corn which people have brought him to grind, and he's said to have sold it afterwards to Itzig.--What are you looking at, Neiting?"
"O, I just caught sight of him coming up with Rathsherr Herse."